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syluss-littlecrow · 5 months ago

Text

release

where both you and Caleb end up doing more than butt heads about his given curfew for you.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, mutual pinning, mutual obsession & possession, jealous!Caleb breeding kink, multiple orgasms, a lot of cum..., perverted!MC, friends to lovers?, squirting, unprotected sex, morning sex, pure Caleb brain rot, it gets pretty nasty

a/n: Caleb, Caleb, CALEB XIA YIZHOU 😭😭 the way I've been giggling over Caleb while watching his story and going back to my home screen with Sylus looking at me with his arms crossed.... Anyway, enjoy this Caleb brain rot 🥹🩷 I'll do one with Caleb's military air force uniform when I can 😔🫡

I JUST SAW THE NEW BANNER DROP IM NOT OK IF ANYONES WONDERING.

w/c: 3.5K

Effortless. That is what Caleb feels like when his affections come to you. It bubbles and boils over when he thinks he's able to put a lid over it, and it overflows instead. It leaves him so defenseless. Yet, he can't seem to stop. It's the only thing that keeps him going in this hell.

The only thing he feels is the metallic necklace barely weighing on his chest. It almost feels like you're here with him.

And if you are, he wants to keep you here with him. Forever.

His eyes slowly open. His eyes focus on the hologram clock hovering at the side.

You're supposed to be back already.

Caleb contemplated on driving out to find you since he has your location pinging on his phone.

Since when did you have that many friends in Skyhaven? Why doesn't he know about them?

He checks the messages he's sent you, all unread.

Caleb has to remind himself to stop clenching his jaw and biting his tongue.

His stare towards the door grows anxious by the minute. Then he strengthens his resolve and marches towards the door, ready to leave and look for you.

The second he pulls down the door handle, the jingle of the door unlocking from the outside sounds and the door swings open, making you and Caleb jump when he catches you in his arms from bumping into each other.

“Caleb!” You squeal, flustered at the way you completely ran into him. His warmth is radiating over to your skin. “Are you okay? Where were you gonna go?”

You watch a small pout form on his lips. He truly looks like a puppy when he does that, you can't help but think.

“Look for you”, he curtly replies, making sure you've regained your balance before he releases your arms.

You straighten your posture, and sheepishly touch the nape of your neck, immediately avoiding his gaze.

“Ah, right. Well, I got carried away with chatting with my friends and all…”

Caleb crosses his arms. His pout turns into a frown, and his eyebrows are scrunched.

Shit. He looks mad.

You inch closer to him, your fingers grazing over his knuckles.

“I'm sorry, Caleb. Don't be mad okay? I'm home now, safe and sound, in the flesh, aren't I?”

Caleb breathes steadily, keeping his expression the same, but when you take his palm and nuzzle your cheek against it, Caleb feels the anxiety and frustration dissolve. He wants to reprimand you about the curfew, and why he implemented it in the first place. If you’ve stayed missing for a second longer, he would have completely lost it. But the moment his palm nearly touches your lips, it all dissipates, as if it never existed.

Caleb exhales a sigh of defeat, letting it go just this time, alongside the countless times he did.

“Go shower. I left the heater on for you.”

You respond with a cheeky smile that makes something in Caleb’s chest bloom, and he lets you go, watching you disappear into your room.

Caleb hears a knock on his door. He walks over and opens it, watching you coming into view.

“Is there something you need, pipsqueak?”

You squeeze through the crack of the partially opened door and occupy his bed.

“I'm just bored.”

Even though Caleb cocks his eyebrow, he still sprouts his smile, walking over to join you on his bed.

“Not because you're trying to make it up to me for coming back past curfew?”

Shit.

Your smile playfully drops to a pout. “I got carried away yapping with my friends. You know I didn't mean to…”

Caleb crosses his arms again.

“I could tell. My messages were all left unread.”

You curl your fingers to your lips when you realise you've been caught.

Caleb seems upset but you still see the softness beneath.

He sighs.

“I'm doing this for your own good, pipsqueak. I don't like you getting caught up in this.”

Caleb likes to think that it is that way, but he knows that it's more than just that.

“As you can tell–” you’re showing off your body–your arms first then your legs, then your abdomen. But what Caleb didn't expect you to do was lift up your shirt slightly, your skin exposed, and have your shorts hike up your thighs, just to prove your point. “Nothing! You can check me for tracking devices too if you want to.”

Something snaps in him.

“So do you let your friends inspect your body like that?”

He crawls onto the bed, watching the smile slowly drop from your face.

Caleb’s fingers trace your bare skin, drawing goosebumps from how ghostly the touches feel. His fingers slide from the top of your knees, and towards your thighs.

“Do you know how worried I was when you didn't answer my messages?”

You’re about to part your lips to respond, but he cuts you off.

“I was wondering what conversations you were having that you ignored me.”

“Caleb–”

He’s completely trapped you against the headboard of his bed. He's trapped you with his stare.

Caleb inches closer, until he's close enough. His eyes glance down to your lips for a split second before his gaze meets yours again.

Your breath is shaky when he leans in closer.

Then he turns away.

What the fuck?

You watch in disbelief as he pulls away, your breath still caught in your throat from the tension.

Caleb’s signature smile returns and you feel his palm stroke the back of your head.

“You should go back to bed. It's late.”

He turns to open his door for you to leave.

“Maybe I should start coming home later too.”

He pauses in his steps.

“I don't think that's a bright idea, pipsqueak.”

You slide off his bed and walk towards his door.

“Maybe not. But I have brighter ones that consist of escaping your curfew.”

You’re ready to leave the room with your victory, that is, until the door before you completely shuts. You see his shadow tower over you from behind.

You turn to face Caleb, your arms are crossed.

“Didn’t you ask me to go to bed?”

“Changed my mind. I wanna make sure you're thoroughly inspected.”

You’re facing Caleb, back on his bed again. He starts with your face, but he lets his fingers linger around your lips, brushing across your bottom lip. You turn away, and his fingers catch your chin, forcing you to face Caleb.

“No looking away.”

His eyes are devouring every patch of skin that exists on your body. Even though you're clothed, you feel naked when he has his eyes on you this intensely. His fingertips trace back to your lips and he slides it down painfully slowly–past your chin, down your neck, through your sternum, past your stomach, and stops right above the elastic of your shorts.

You want to shift, but you realise you can't–your body suddenly feels weighed down to the bed, and that's when you realise Caleb has you held down with his Evol.

The softness in Caleb’s eyes disappears, and something else replaces it. You watch him tug your shorts off you, and all you can do is watch helplessly.

His kisses tickle from your ankle, and he builds them upwards at an agonising pace, each kiss feeling warmer as he travels up your thigh.

Your heartbeat only accelerates from there, watching Caleb inch closer and closer to your cunt. Your thighs tense up from the sensitivity, the warmth of his lips spreading over your skin when you feel his tongue come in contact with your skin.

“That tickles”, your voice is soft, as if the defiance in your tone before never existed.

Caleb’s lips press against your clothed pussy. Despite the fact that you’re trembling slightly, you've completely soaked your panties, and Caleb is more than happy to soak them even more.

He buries his tongue, wetting the fabric even further. The pleasure draws soft moans, but evidently, it's not enough.

“Caleb… Could you lighten your Evol?” You plead. You want to feel him so bad.

Your body instantly lightens, and you almost think you're gonna fall off the bed.

Something else holds you down this time, and it's Caleb.

He tilts your chin up to have your lips meet his, now his kisses melting off the thoughts in your brain. Warmth burns through your skin. It takes you seconds to realise Caleb is lifting your shirt off you.

The clothing article is the next victim tossed somewhere else on the bed.

You take his cheeks to your palms.

“I really need you now, Caleb.”

The softness returns to his eyes momentarily.

“Are you sure you're okay with this?”

“I'll hop off right now and head straight to bed if you don't”, you huff. Fuck, the anticipation is just clawing through your insides, begging for Caleb to do something.

He playfully scoffs.

“We both know you wouldn't.”

Caleb tugs your panties to the side, and lines himself to your hole.

He thrusts into you in one swift motion, and you feel it all the way in. It knocks your breath out of you. Caleb watches you helplessly gasp for air and adjust to his size. He’s just filled you so full.

He’s still supporting you so you don't fucking pass out. He feels you scratch all over his back from the pressure but he stays still, at least, until you've adjusted.

“Shit. You're so fuckin’ warm for me”, he hisses into your neck, trying his best not to thrust into you. You feel so tight for him, he feels so good just staying there.

He stretches you open for him–your pussy fluttering at the feeling of him filling you up. The pressure slowly fades and you quickly adjust to his size.

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you from below–the sensation so overwhelming that it's making you tear up.

“So good”, you sigh, struggling to keep your eyes open–almost impossible when his cock is hitting your g-spot over and over again. Sparks burst into your eyelids whenever he hits the spot and it's evident that he knows he’s able to unravel you just like that, so easily.

“Caleb…”, you moan. Caleb’s still fucking you, feeling the way you're just squeezing him, watching the way your fingers have gone clawing his back to his bedsheets, the way your tits are bouncing from fucking you, the way your eyes practically form hearts when he knows he's hit your sensitive spots.

“Faster, please. You feel so fucking good.”

He knows you shouldn't have said that. You're the only person who can rile him up like this. How the hell are you making him break his resolve when he's supposed to be upset with you?

He leans in, practically hovering over you. His fingers cup your cheek and he forces you to meet his violet eyes.

In your fucked out haze, you blink, confused when he slows down. He pulls out completely, and you're about to complain until he rolls your soiled panties off your legs, tossing it to somewhere on the bed.

You gasp when you feel his thumb graze over your wet and throbbing clit.

“I'm gonna make you wonder what the fuck wrong with your body”, Caleb’s voice reaches your ears. His words sends a shiver down your spine.

“Your little pussy is gonna throb every time you think of me.”

That's all the warning he gives before his arms tower over you, holding your wrists down above your head.

He fucks you into an orbit and you're practically helpless–forced to take his thrusts over and over. But fuck, it feels so good. It feels like fucking heaven.

You like how dizzy it makes you feel. You like how he's not stopping, no matter how much tears stream down your face, and how pathetic you sound crying and moaning his name.

“Fuck! Caleb, it's too much–” you whimper, the strange feeling building up in your stomach. It feels like it's about to snap any second.

He acknowledges your words, but he doesn't bother slowing down.

“Didn’t you promise me to be a good girl and take all of it?”

“Caleb–!”

Your voice sounds so heavenly when you call his name.

The fluids fountains out of you, soaking everything near it's vincity–including the both of you. Your orgasm continues to wash over you and more fluids spray out.

Caleb watches you squirm and jolt while you make a mess all over him.

He lets go of your wrists, the slight redness forming onto your skin, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip.

Despite your arms feeling sore from resisting against his hold, you wrap them around his neck, pulling him close to catch his lips. He's taken back for a split second, but he returns the kiss, letting his soft moans drown into your lips while you clench around him.

When you both pull back, it's Caleb’s turn to have his eyes glazed and his cheeks dusted a soft shade of pink.

“y/n, if you keep doin’ that–fuck”, Caleb groans, his fingers closing into a fist against the sheets. His breath is shaky. The euphoria is threatening to spill over–the fact that you're trapping him in like this with you, just the two of you solely existing together right now–he could get high off this feeling. He doesn't need anything else.

“I'm so close. Shit.” You watch the bead of sweat trickle down his temple, down to his cheek, to his chin, and then it disappears into the mess the both of you made below.

Caleb’s voice makes you refocus on him.

His palm presses against your cheek again, his thumb brushing lightly on the corner of your lips.

“You're gonna take all of it like a good girl, yeah?”

You nod, almost too eagerly. Caleb can't help but think that your face after being fucked looks breathtakingly beautiful. It makes him want to hide you further. The world doesn't deserve someone like you.

He crashes his lips with yours, melting into the kiss while he pumps you full with his thick cum–making sure he has himself seated deep inside so nothing spills out. At least, not until he pulls out.

The high slowly descends, and the both of you are left panting, getting lost in each other’s eyes just for that moment before Caleb slowly pulls out.

Caleb then reaches for the glass of water perched on his nightstand to offer you. You take a good few sips of water, and hand it back to Caleb, who takes a couple of sips as well. He notices the way your cheeks are still flushed and that you're blinking more. He plants the empty glass onto the nightstand, ready to carry you to wash up and probably change the sheets after.

In a daze, you notice Caleb’s cum seeping out of your hole in small loads. You wet two fingers and slide them to your pussy–and you push the thick fluids back in, your body jolting in pleasure while you're pretty much fingering your pussy with Caleb’s cum.

Caleb swallows hard while he watches you pleasure yourself. He’s about to say something but you cut him off.

“Your cum keeps leaking out”, you point out, giving him the full view of your cum-soaked pussy. You look up at him with an innocent, poison-soaked gaze–your lashes wet and your thighs trembling from each time you feel his cum leak out of you.

“It��d be such a waste–”, you mutter, shivering one more time when your fingers fuck you again, the room only filled with your voice and the wet squelching sounds from your pussy.

“–if it doesn't stay inside.”

You barely have time to process what happens next. The next thing you knew, Caleb has your hands pinned above your head with one hand, and the other on your cheeks. His legs stop you from closing yours, and you feel his wet thickness hard once more, resting on your pubic bone.

“You know, pipsqueak”, his voice drops an octave lower. His voice is clear, and he makes sure you hear him. “It's okay to just ask for more.” His eyes reflect such a gorgeous shade of wild you've never seen before, and it looks fucking good on him.

No warnings–your cunt is just wet and sopping that Caleb stuffs you to fullness once more–you give up trying to keep your eyelids open, your mind only processing the way he’s fucking so deep into you again and again.

“You know I'll always give it to you.”

The way his fingers are cupping your cheeks stops you from answering. Well, he doesn't need a verbal response, especially not when you’re clenching him so fucking tight when your orgasm hits you for the…how many times was it now?

You feel stings that slowly dull around your shoulders and chest. The bites Caleb’s given you are as red as the ruby on his apple necklace.

The night is drowned with sounds and sensations of both you competing to send each other to the heavens.

What day is it now?

Caleb blinks his heavy eyelids open. He soaks in the atmosphere around him, and it doesn't take him long to realise that you're lying on his arm.

Thankfully, it's not numb. Your hair tickles his cheeks.

He notices the light peeking through his curtains. It's probably daytime.

Caleb presses his lips against the back of your head, while he pulls you closer. He almost jolts when he hears a soft moan coming from you.

For some reason, something feels funny.

He attempts to shift slightly, and realises the predicament–his dick is still hard as fuck, and he’s still nestled so fucking deep in you. Fuck. Did the both of you fall asleep mid-sex? The feeling bleeds into him again.

Are you even awake to realise this?

Caleb bites his inner cheek, the hardness only builds. Shit. Even after all of that, you're still this warm and tight?

He watches your breathing steadily.

He hooks your leg over his arm almost too easily, giving himself easier access to fuck you deeper. Your sleepiness is slowly dissipating, overtaken so fucking quick by the burning desire once more.

His thrusts bear slight friction at first, but somehow that only adds to the pleasure–the rawness, the fact that he's left a mess in you and kept that way, and that he gets to do it all over again in the morning.

“Ca…Caleb..!” You squeal, uselessly fisting the pillows while Caleb rails you from below.

“So perfectly warm for me, y/n”, his morning voice dousing you. He takes advantage to litter more bites to the back of your neck and shoulders, and spoils you with his strained moans when he reflects the way you whimper whenever he hits your sensitive spots.

You sheepishly bury your teary face into the pillows, and Caleb pushes himself impossibly deeper, forcing you to face him when you jolt in surprise. His violet eyes are eating you up. You hear his voice ring in your ears.

“Wanna make you cry more like this. You're so pretty when you cry when I'm splittin’ you open like this.”

More tears stream down your cheeks whenever your g-spot gets abused over and over. Caleb forces you to meet his gaze. His thrusts are slower, but harder.

“Shit, you're really gonna milk me dry, yeah?” Caleb hisses when he feels you flutter around him. Your cum is mixed with his, and drips down his cock, to his balls.

Caleb pulls you tighter, deepening the kiss one last time while he breeds you full over and over for nth time since the last night, devouring your whimpers when the words you muttered to him last night comes into memory. You're so dizzy with pleasure, and Caleb has stolen all of your breaths.

He finally pulls out, his cum endlessly drizzling out of your abused hole, and it almost sets him off again.

Nonetheless, he forces himself to get out of bed so he can get a towel and clean you up.

Another loving kiss he presses onto your temple.

“I'm gonna get a towel, pipsqueak.” His husky whispers send shivers down your body, and the warmth of his touch lingers on your thighs for a lot longer than you realise.

He leaves the bed for the bathroom.

You nuzzle into the pillows Caleb was just lying on, drowning yourself with his scent. The wetness that sticks between your legs–you can't tell if it's your fresh arousal or if it's his cum anymore.

Not that it mattered since steadying your breath when you realised he was still in you when you stirred before him to see what he'd do next, gave you such a big reward.

And you'd do it all over again. You would say things to get under his skin, just to get a rise out of him, just to keep his attention on you, always.

You wanted to keep his strained voice when he called your name, the way he looks at you with so much desperation when he breeds you full, in a bottle and store it for your perverted indulgence.

No one else needs to know that this part of Caleb exists, because he belongs to you.

The dim light catches your attention underneath the thick sheets. You take the device, unlocking the phone with your fingerprint.

6 missed calls.

You swipe them away. You shut off his phone.

He doesn't need to know.

He doesn't need to remember.

At least, not when he's with you.

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buckyseternaldoll · 29 days ago

Text

Code Red

Summary: The mission was intel. But when you went dark, Bucky lost all control—and the code turned personal.

Disclaimer: graphic violence, captivity, non-consensual restrain/touch, implied sexual threat, psychological trauma, physical degradation, feral violence (Bucky), verbal abuse, violent confrontation, bloodshed, reader described as plus-size, TB* members appearance, happy ending

Word Count: 8,558

Author's note: I'm sorry for the dark theme. I'm at the hospital, drowned by my own unsafe thoughts due to my surroundings. I understand this would trigger many things so please, please scroll away if this is not for you.

Bucky had been tense ever since the mission briefing with Valentina.

You and he had been assigned to extract intel from someone out of his worst memories—someone from the part of his past he’d spent years trying to bury. And as fate would have it, you were going to be the one sent in close. Personal.

The cherry on top? No one else in the building—except Walker—knew you and Bucky were married.

It hadn’t been a deliberate secret at first. You both just liked the simplicity of it. No questions, no gossip. Quiet. Private. You’d meant to tell the others eventually, maybe once things calmed down between missions. But three years and numerous near-death assignments later, it was still just you, Bucky, and that worn silver band threaded through the chain of his dog tags; kept tucked beneath his shirt, close to his chest where no one ever thought to look.

Walker had only found out by accident—he’d overheard you both talking, low and domestic, about decorating the new apartment Bucky had gotten you. Being a married man himself, he clocked it immediately and, to his credit, had kept his mouth shut ever since.

But the issue wasn’t the secrecy.

It was the mission.

You were going undercover to get close to Volkov—a former HYDRA taskmaster who’d gone dark for years, now resurfacing through underground ops and illegal tech smuggling. Worse still, the tech in question was rumored to be more powerful than both vibranium and adamantium combined.

And Volkov?

He had a type. Curvy. Plus-size. Long, wavy red hair.

And within a heartbeat, Valentina had already decided it would be you—hair dye on standby before you even left the room.

Bucky hated every second of it.

Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he knew Volkov.

Volkov had been there during the brainwashing. Watching. Smiling. Not the man who gave the orders, but the one who enjoyed watching them followed. Bucky remembered him leaning in from the shadows, jaw sharp, eyes gleaming with control like it made him feel divine.

He wasn’t just another piece of the HYDRA machine.

He was proud of what Bucky became. Of how many he broke.

Volkov had chosen him to fight other enhanced soldiers. Had studied him like a weapon. Had whispered twisted encouragement while the programming crushed him over and over again.

And Bucky hated the idea of you having to flirt with the demon from his past.

He understood the mission’s importance. He really did. But logic had never stood a chance against this—being forced to stare down the man who once stripped him of everything, while watching the woman he loved play nice to get information.

There was no good place for him in this. No role that didn’t make his blood boil.

You noticed the tension winding through him as you both walked back to the common room. His steps were stiff, calculated. His jaw had been clenched since the briefing. He hadn’t said a word.

You knew why. You always did.

Bucky had told you pieces of his nightmares—never the full picture, but enough. The burn of restraints against his skin. The cold metal table under his back. The sterile sting of alcohol. And Volkov’s voice cutting through the silence like a blade, low and proud and amused. Watching. Always watching. Like a man admiring a piece of art that he thought he owned.

The moment you stepped into the common room, Bucky blew out a harsh breath. His eyes were distant, like he was already somewhere else. The muscles in his neck and jaw were drawn tight, veins standing out starkly against his skin like they could split open.

Without a word, he dropped onto the couch, his body sinking in as if gravity had gotten heavier. The worn leather creaked beneath him as he leaned his head back against the cushions, eyes slipping closed for just a moment.

Valentina wasn’t going to change her mind. That much was written across his face. She never did.

You followed, settling beside him, the fabric of your tactical pants brushing softly against his. The air between you still carried the faint antiseptic scent of the briefing room—cold, clinical, suffocating.

Your hand found his, and you laced your fingers through his metal ones, your palm warm against the chill of the vibranium plates. He flexed just slightly, like even that much touch reminded him he was here. With you. Not in that chair. Not in the red room.

“You okay?” you asked gently, your thumb sweeping over the knuckles of his hand.

He didn’t answer right away. Just exhaled again, slower this time, like he was trying to pace himself through the storm still building inside his chest.

“I’m not,” he admitted at last. His voice was gravel-thick, barely above a whisper. “But…”

He turned toward you, his blue eyes heavy with something unreadable—part awe, part ache. He took you in like you were the only stable point left in the room. Your hair still its natural color, your body warm and solid beside him, your expression carved with concern. Your wedding band, stacked with a few others, caught the low lighting just enough to glint—hidden in plain sight.

His gaze lingered there for a second, and then moved back up to your face. You looked worried. You looked like his, and that was what kept him grounded.

“But I’ll be fine,” he said, his tone softening just enough. He gave a quick glance around, then lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles, lingering there like he could breathe you in.

“We got this.”

He wasn’t saying it for you. He was saying it for himself. To remind himself that this time, he wasn’t going in alone. That even if you had to play nice with the monster, it was your mission. Not theirs. Not Volkov’s.

He’d been fighting demons for years.

And maybe he hadn’t slayed them all.

But he’d survived them. And now, he had you.

That was all that mattered.

─

Your jaw went slack the moment you saw the dress that Valentina had personally picked—laid out on the bed.

Red.

Not just red—blood red, silky, and scandalous. The neckline plunged lower than anything you’d worn outside of your own bedroom, and the hem looked like it might start a fight with gravity if you so much as bent over. You didn’t even have to lift it to know it would barely cover your ass.

You didn’t bother hiding your disgust. “Is she serious?”

You turned toward Bucky, dress still dangling from your fingers like it might bite. He hadn’t moved. Just sat there on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the garment with unreadable eyes. His face was a perfect mask—stone-cold, emotionless—but the vein ticking in his jaw betrayed him.

“I can ask for another one,” you said, your tone careful. “Too sexy for a married woman.”

You added a dry scoff under your breath, “Not like she knows, but—”

Bucky cut in, voice low and rough. “It’s nice.” A pause. “Should work on him.”

Another pause—longer this time—and then, his mouth twitched at the corner. “Definitely working on me.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a light smack on the arm, but heat curled in your chest at the compliment. No smirk followed his words, no leering grin—just that quiet, reverent tone he saved only for you. The kind of tone that made you fall in love with him all over again.

He could’ve raged. Should’ve, maybe. But instead, Bucky just stood up and helped you with steady hands. Held out the necklace, clipped the clasp. Watched you with hungry eyes but never crossed a line. You knew he was mentally filing this all away—every curve revealed, every breath you took in that sinful dress—for when the mission was over and you were safely back in his arms.

You stepped behind the privacy divider and changed quickly, tugging the soft silk over your skin. The fabric clung like it had been sewn onto you, stretching taut across your hips and hugging the dip of your waist. You stepped back into view, adjusting the neckline in vain, before reaching for your hairpins.

Bucky helped you curl a few strands loose around your face, fingers gentle, eyes tracking every movement like he was touching something sacred.

You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and froze.

The red was devastating against your skin tone. Your curves poured into the fabric like molten gold into a cast, the neckline dipping low enough to hint danger and promise. Your breasts rose and fell in time with your breath, almost spilling over the fabric with every inhale. Your hair was gathered to one side in soft, tousled curls—polished, sultry, lethal.

And in the mirror, you saw him.

Bucky, still behind you, watching. His reflection stared like he wanted to devour something—someone. Like he was holding back a war.

His hands found your waist slowly, possessively. He pulled you back against him, his vibranium arm firm and cool against your side, his flesh hand sliding along the curve of your stomach. He pressed a kiss just beneath your ear, the heat of his breath scattering goosebumps across your neck.

“So fucking gorgeous, doll,” he murmured.

You felt the soft drag of his lips as he kissed down to your pulse point, then the gentle scrape of his teeth as he sucked lightly—just enough to tease, not enough to leave a mark. Professional. Barely.

The urge to melt into him nearly overrode the mission entirely.

“Your necklace,” he murmured, pulling back slightly. “Camera’s built in. I’ll be your eyes.”

He passed you the earpiece—small, skin-toned, nearly invisible. “For comms.”

You nodded, slipping it in, but your hands trembled just slightly from adrenaline or nerves—or the way he was still looking at you like the mission could go to hell for all he cared.

He took a step back and made you twirl once.

The silk flared high with the motion, fluttering like smoke around your hips. For a breathless second, the hem rode up just enough to expose the curve of your ass—barely covered by the black tactical shorts beneath. A teasing flash. A threat. A promise.

Bucky’s eyes locked onto the sight, and a low, guttural sound tore from his throat—half groan, half growl. He dragged a hand through his hair, like he was trying to keep himself from losing it right there.

“Fuck me, doll…” he muttered, voice thick. “You tryna kill me before the mission even starts?”

You gave him a soft, steady look—part smile, part shield. “You ready?” you asked.

But it was really him asking you.

His fingers brushed your wrist—once, twice—like a final tether before the storm. His voice came low and sure.

“With you?” His lips quirked. “Always.”

─

The nightclub, VØLT, was buried beneath a defunct hotel in the heart of the city—a forgotten husk above, but alive and feral below. Coded entry only, shielded from satellites, and loud enough to shake the bones in your chest. The air was thick with secrets and sin. Shadows clung to the corners, pierced only by strobes and flashing crimson lights. Bodies moved like smoke across the dancefloor, heat and perfume curling in the air like incense. The bass thrummed like a second heartbeat, relentless, primal.

You walked through it all like you owned the place. Head high, hips steady. The red dress painted on your curves, your heels clicking sharp across the concrete floor. The music pulsed low and sexual, the bass vibrating through your ribs.

Bucky’s voice was in your ear—steady, low, grounding. “Cam’s good. I’ve got eyes. You’re clear to move.”

You didn’t answer. Just exhaled slowly and zeroed in on the booth near the back.

Volkov looked different, but not enough. His hair was grayer, his jawline looser, but his posture—relaxed, draped across the velvet like he owned the room—was the same. A monster’s throne.

He was smoking something sharp and spiced, the bitter tang of his cigar mixing with the scent of the club. It made your throat itch. His smile was practiced, sculpted into something that almost passed for charm. Almost.

He watched you approach like a man dissecting prey.

“Evening,” you said, voice wrapped in heat and silk.

He didn’t return the greeting. Just looked you up and down with a hunger that made your skin crawl. “You’re late.”

“I like making an entrance.” You sat, legs crossed slowly, the hem of your dress sliding up to reveal just enough thigh. “I heard you’re holding something I want.”

His eyes dropped lower. “I find that hard to believe.”

“You shouldn’t,” you murmured, tapping a fingernail against the glass in front of you. “I have the money. I want the weapon.”

Volkov watched you with unsettling calm, blowing smoke sideways. You could feel the nicotine cloud brush against your cheek.

“You ask for quite a bit,” he said eventually. “Trust doesn’t come cheap.”

“Then tell me what does,” you countered.

He smirked, teeth glinting behind his cigar smoke like a wolf sizing up a meal.

“Come closer, принцесса (printsessa). Let me feel what I’m selling to.”

Your breath hitched. Just a split-second delay, but it was enough.

The music felt louder now, bassline pounding through the soles of your heels, up into your spine. Your blood thudded in your ears, hot and slow, like it was being pulled toward danger. You could feel every eye in the room watching you, sizing you up the way he was. Like meat. Like leverage.

Bucky’s voice sliced through the comm, low and razor-sharp:

“Don’t do it. You don’t have to—”

“I got this,” you whispered back. It was the only thing you could say. You had to say it for both of you.

Volkov patted his thigh, thick fingers spread. His smirk widened. His gold ring caught the red light like blood in moonlight.

Your feet moved on instinct, each step heavy with something coiled in your gut. You slid into his lap like silk stretched over barbed wire—fluid on the outside, jagged underneath. You perched carefully, your weight held taut in your thighs to avoid giving him too much.

But it didn’t matter. His hand snapped around your waist like a shackle, possessive and greedy. His palm was hot through the thin silk, rough where the rings dug into your flesh. A predator’s grip.

Then the second hand came up—slow, deliberate. It skimmed along the bare skin of your back where the dress dipped low, each finger a cold brush of oil-slicked arrogance. Your breath caught. The nausea started in your stomach and crept higher.

He leaned in close, his breath warm and sickly sweet from brandy and smoke.

“Mmm… you smell like sugar and sweat. Dangerous mix.”

His voice dropped, coiled around your throat like a rope.

“Do you make sounds when you wear red like this? Or do you just lay there and kill slowly?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You forced a smile, teeth aching from the tension in your jaw.

In your ear, Bucky’s comm had gone silent.

Then: a sharp inhale. Metal hitting something solid.

CLUNK.

You could hear it—his vibranium fist slamming the edge of a table, or a wall, anything to keep from tearing the comm from his ear.

He wasn’t speaking. But you could feel him—burning, locked down, seconds from detonation.

Volkov’s hand crept lower on your spine, fingers dragging over your skin in slow, possessive circles. He lingered at the small of your back, thumb teasing just beneath the fabric now, pushing boundaries with the casual boldness of a man who’d never been told no.

His breath rasped against your ear, faster now—he was getting off on this. On the power. On you.

“Such a soft thing,” he murmured. “You ever had someone ruin you just to rebuild you sweeter?”

Your body went cold. You kept the mask on, but your fists were curled in your lap, nails digging into your skin to keep the rage from surfacing.

Then he raised his voice, just enough for the nearby guards to hear. Mocking.

“She’s the kind that moans when you just touch her. Right here—”

His hand pressed hard against your lower back, fingers flexing, suggestive.

“—and she melts.”

And that was it.

Bucky’s voice cracked back through the comm, no longer calm. He sounded wrecked.

“Pull out. Now. I swear to God—”

“I’m fine,” you whispered, through clenched teeth. “Just another minute.”

But he wasn’t fine. You could hear it now—his breath was short, shallow, furious. He was pacing, maybe. Staring at your feed. Muscles bunched and twitching, jaw locked so tight it probably ached.

His voice returned, low but raw, like it scraped up from his ribs:

“You’re not a pawn,” he hissed. “You’re my goddamn wife.”

Those words landed low in your chest, sharp and full of heat.

You inhaled slowly, steadied your hands, and leaned in just enough for Volkov to think he’d won. Close enough to feel the heat of his neck.

“Dock 65,” he finally whispered. “Tomorrow. Midnight. Alone.”

You smiled, soft and slow. Then you rose—graceful but fast, sliding off his lap like a knife from its sheath.

His hand didn’t leave you until the last second, dragging over the curve of your ass like he had the right. Like he owned even the air between your bodies.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t look back.

You walked toward the exit with your chin high, every muscle taut, your dress swaying around your hips like liquid flame. But your legs trembled from effort. Not fear—restraint.

Then his voice filled your ear again, low and ruined.

“Come back to me. Now.”

─

You entered the hotel room, hit by the a of heat that had nothing to do with temperature. Rage hung in the air—thick, suffocating. Something acrid and metallic burned your nose. The air felt charged, like a thunderstorm was caught in the walls.

Your eyes dropped to the corner where your shared luggage sat—shredded, the zipper teeth split wide like a scream. One of the hard cases was caved in, the shape unmistakable. That was the sound you heard through your comm. The clunk. His fist.

Bucky stood near the window, shoulders heaving like a man coming down from battle. His chest moved fast, his breathing ragged. The moonlight through the blinds glanced off his metal arm, glinting off the knuckles that were still clenched, twitching. His jaw flexed, teeth grinding so hard you thought you could hear the bone creak.

Then his eyes found yours. And the fire there almost knocked you back.

“Goddamn doll,” he growled, voice barely human, thick with rage. “I swear to God, I’m going to rip that fucker’s head off with my bare hands.” His vibranium hand flexed again, sharp and jerky. “I’ll carve his spine out and feed it to him.”

But you were already crossing the room. No hesitation.

You threw your arms around him before he could move again, before he could spiral deeper into that dark place. Your cheek pressed to his chest, the fabric of his shirt damp with sweat, heart pounding like a war drum beneath it.

“I hated every second of it,” you whispered, your voice raw and tight. “That wasn’t easy for me.”

His arms wrapped around you a beat too late, stiff and tensed—as if he was afraid he’d break you. You held him tighter, anchoring both of you. His body trembled—not fear, not grief. Fury. A possessive, helpless rage that had nowhere to go.

“Baby,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his, “shhh. Baby, look at me.”

He didn’t. Not right away. His eyes were still far away—still watching that bastard touch you, still hearing the way he spoke to you like you were something he owned. You knew the image was carved into Bucky’s mind like a scar.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your fingers over his jaw. “He didn’t get me.”

His eyes finally snapped to yours. Hungry, desperate, searching for proof. For any sign that Volkov had left a mark.

“He touched you,” he said, voice hoarse, almost childlike with the weight of it. “He fucking touched you. I watched it—I felt it, like it was me.”

“I know,” you said gently. “But we got what we needed. Dock 65. Tomorrow. He bought it. It worked.”

His hands came up slowly, cupping your face like you might vanish if he let go. He exhaled a long, shaky breath against your forehead. The scent of him—sweat, adrenaline, and the lingering trace of that smoky cologne he wore on missions wrapped around you like armor.

“We can kill him later,” you whispered with a small, bitter smile.

Bucky still didn’t smile. He pulled you tighter against him, one hand sliding to the back of your head, cradling it.

“You’re not bait,” he murmured, voice low and guttural. “You’re not some decoy for men like him. You’re my wife.”

The word cracked open something raw between you.

Wife. Not asset. Not agent. Not distraction.

Just his.

You didn’t speak. You just stayed pressed against him, holding his trembling body as he tried to cage the storm inside him.

His arms were iron around you, but the tension in him was raw, barely contained fury simmering just beneath the surface. Yet somehow, he held you like you were fragile glass—his fingers digging into your sides not to hurt, but as if afraid to let go, afraid you’d slip away. You wanted more than anything to let yourself be crushed by him, to be pressed into his heat so hard that every memory of Volkov’s filthy hands was scorched away.

You pulled back just a fraction, enough to look up into those icy blue eyes—eyes that burned with a jealousy so fierce it made your skin tingle. Your voice was low, smooth but thick with emotion, a threadbare mix of exhaustion, defiance, and need.

“Bucky…”

His thumb brushed beneath your eye, wiping away a phantom tear you didn’t realize you’d shed. You saw the flicker of guilt, the sharp edge of helplessness. But there was no brokenness in you to find, only fire.

You stepped closer, letting the soft rustle of your dress brush against his worn tactical vest—the fabric whispering secrets of where you’d been, what you’d endured.

The red silk clung to your curves like a second skin, a promise, a warning. The slit teasing open your thigh, the low back bare and vulnerable, but now reclaimed, like a battlefield you’d already won.

You reached up slowly, your fingers threading into the thick strands of his dark hair, pulling him closer—closer than the sharp scent of gunmetal and sweat that clung to him after every fight. His breath hitched in a way that made your heart shatter and heal all at once.

“I don’t want to remember him,” you said, voice a velvet thread laced with steel. “Not how he touched me. Not how he looked at me like I was a prize to be bought or broken.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched until the muscle twitched. But you pressed your hand to his chest, feeling the steady, heavy beat of his heart beneath the fabric, slow and sure under your palm.

“I want to remember you.”

His breath was shallow, erratic, like he was drowning in everything you were saying—and everything you weren’t.

You carefully removed your earpiece—the faint click breaking the silence between you like a vow. You set it aside, eyes never leaving his.

You slid your hands down the ridge of his collarbone, across the hard planes of his chest, tracing the line of muscle and scars that made him whole—the man you loved.

You stepped close, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper that barely brushed his skin. “You know,” you murmured, eyes locked on his, “when we were in front of the mirror earlier… I couldn’t stop noticing you.”

His gaze sharpened, dark and dangerous, like a storm about to break.

“You were so hard, pressed against me like you wanted to claim every inch of me. Like you wanted to tear me apart and make me yours right then and there.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, thick and ragged. His chest rose sharply beneath his shirt, muscles taut, pulsing with a tension that was almost unbearable. You could feel it—his need, his fury, his desperate hunger—all radiating off him in waves.

You lifted your hand slowly, deliberately, and pressed a featherlight kiss just below his ear, where his pulse beat wildly. The heat of your lips sent a shiver racing down your spine and made his whole body tense against yours.

His breath caught, low and rough, a sound raw with longing and restraint. His metal hand slid to your waist, firm and possessive, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

You trailed your fingers up the curve of his neck, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your touch, the scar beneath his jaw like a secret you were privileged to trace.

Your lips hovered over his skin, voice husky with need. “I want you, Bucky. Right here. Right now.”

His lips crashed against your neck, hot and demanding, searing a trail of fire down your skin. His mouth was hungry, worshipful, each kiss a claim—a promise and a warning.

But then his eyes flicked to the door, the weight of the mission pulling him back like a chain.

You pulled away slowly, breath mingling with his, your fingers still curled possessively against his neck.

“We’ll finish this,” you promised, voice thick with heat and something deeper. “I’d rather die tangled in your arms than spend one more second remembering Volkov’s filthy hands on me.”

His jaw clenched, voice low and rough, trembling with rage and need. “You’re mine, doll. No one’s going to touch you like that. Not while I’m breathing.”

His grip tightened around your waist, holding you close as if letting go might make you vanish.

And in that fierce embrace, you both found a fierce kind of sanctuary—a quiet promise that no matter what came next, you belonged only to each other.

─

You’d arrived at Dock 65 before the promised time, hidden beneath the skeleton of an abandoned shipping yard on the outskirts of Salzburg. The salt from the sea clung to the air, sharp and metallic, biting into your nose with every breath. Bucky had come with you, shadow-silent and lethal, staying just out of range to avoid compromising your cover. His presence was a tether, his voice in your ear a steady heartbeat.

“This feels off,” he murmured, low and tight. “Too quiet. Too clean.”

He was right.

The plan was simple—classic infiltration: see the tech, verify it, grab what we need, then vanish. You’d done this a dozen times with him. It should’ve been routine. It felt like muscle memory.

But the silence was heavy. Not tactical—vacant.

You padded across concrete in soft boots, slipping between rusted containers and steel pylons slick with dew. Your heartbeat matched your footfalls—measured. Focused.

Bucky’s voice hummed in your ear again. “Back’s clear. But I don’t like how easy this is.”

You were already at the final checkpoint—a thick steel door sunk into the loading bay, blinking with a red biometric scanner. The security was laughable. Almost like an invitation. A bad joke wrapped in confidence.

Still, you knelt and worked the panel, fingers flying. “Almost in,” you whispered.

The door clicked. The metal whirled and groaned as it peeled open.

And that’s when it hit.

A sharp prick—hot and thin, like fire beneath your skin. You gasped, stumbling back.

“Fuck,” you hissed, stumbling back instinctively. You reached for your weapon, but your fingers fumbled.

Bucky’s voice snapped in your comm. “What happened? What was that—?”

Your limbs went liquid. Your knees buckled.

You saw the hallway shift and blur. Lights smeared into streaks. A cold wave swept over you, then nothing.

Everything went black.

─

You woke up to cold. Not just in the air, but in your bones.

The scent hit first—rust and sweat and old blood. Your head pounded, dull and heavy, like you were underwater. Every sound was muffled.

Then came the sting in your wrists. The raw burn of rope—tight, too tight. Ankles too. Spread just far enough that it made your muscles ache.

Your gear was still on. Mostly.

But it didn’t feel like armor anymore.

The sleeves of your tactical suit had been shredded—slashed open by a knife meant to scare more than wound. Your zipper had been dragged halfway down your chest, the thick material parting under Volkov’s probing hands. One shoulder was bare where the fabric had been tugged aside, revealing the flush of your skin beneath the cold air. Your belt hung lopsided—holsters gone, gear stripped like trophies. Gloves missing. Boots scuffed from a fight you barely remembered before the sedative hit.

The chill in the room clung to your exposed skin, humid and damp like sweat that didn’t belong to you. And those cameras—silent red eyes blinking from the corners—watched you without blinking. Recording every breath. Every tremor.

You were still conscious. Still aware. And that was the worst part.

Volkov wanted you lucid for this.

Your arms ached from being bound above your head—metal cuffs cutting into your wrists, slick with sweat and blood. Your legs were tied at the ankles, the chair cold beneath you, bolts secured to the floor like this was always part of the plan. Like he’d been waiting to catch you like this. Waiting to make a spectacle of you.

Of course he was talking. He always talked first—like the sound of his voice was foreplay.

“I told them,” he muttered, dragging a chair toward you with a long, grating screech that raked across your skull. “Told them you’d fall. Doesn’t matter how trained you are. Everyone breaks. Especially the pretty ones.”

He sat. Legs wide. Elbows on his knees. Staring at you like you were already bleeding. Like you were his.

“You’ve lasted longer than I expected,” he said, his tone almost admiring. “But it’s coming. The breaking.”

His fingers reached forward again—those same thick, ringed fingers that had unzipped your suit, that had ghosted down your neck when you were half-awake. The scent of cigar smoke and synthetic cologne still clung to them, mixing with the tang of sweat and metal in the room.

His knuckles brushed your cheek. You flinched.

Not because you were afraid. But because you were furious.

And that fury—white-hot and blinding—was the only thing keeping you upright. And Bucky. Out there. Closing in like a storm beneath your skin.

But you couldn’t let Volkov see that.

So you swallowed the bile in your throat, forced your limbs to sag like the sedative still held you. You let your eyes flutter, like you were slipping under again. You made your voice small. Weak.

Why me?” you rasped, voice thin but laced with just enough bait. “What is it you want, really?”

He chuckled, the sound low and cruel. “Why not you? You were on my list the moment I saw you in that club. All that attitude, all that strength. It’ll make the footage better.”

Your stomach turned, a leaden knot of disgust and rage.

Still, you kept your face slack. You played your part.

“You kill me,” you whispered, slurring the words just enough, “you lose what I know. HYDRA vaults. Weapon caches. Secure lines. Things your people couldn’t even find.”

He paused.

There it was. That flicker of greed in his eyes. That hesitation.

You leaned into it.

“Let me talk,” you said, breathing shallowly, trembling just right. “Water. Hands free. Just a little. I’ll give you something.”

He stood again—slow and amused—and crossed to a small metal table at the side of the room. Tools. Restraints. Maybe something sharper. You couldn’t see all of it, but you heard the clink of something metal. A chain. A blade.

You clenched your teeth. Not yet.

A drop of sweat rolled from your temple down to your jaw, and you caught your reflection in one of the black-glass camera lenses. You barely recognized yourself.

But your eyes—your eyes still held fire.

You could see it.

And somewhere out there, Bucky saw it too.

Because you knew. You felt him like gravity. The echo of his fury, the weight of it marching toward you. He’d tear through walls for you. And he was close. So close.

You just had to survive a few more minutes.

Volkov picked up something—something you didn’t want to look at—and turned back toward you.

“You think you’re stalling,” he said with a grin, eyes glinting like broken glass. “But this? This is the good part.”

Your jaw tightened.

You let your chin drop forward, your eyes go dull again.

But inside, you were coiled wire, stretched thin. Every heartbeat was a countdown.

You weren’t stalling for your life.

You were setting the stage for his execution.

─

(Bucky's POV)

He heard it—the faint pop of compressed air, like a dart or a silenced shot. Then a low thud.

Your voice followed, barely audible in the comms—one last breathy fragment before the drug pulled you under. Slurred. Straining.

“Sweet, sweet printsessa. I’ll ruin every tight little hole until you’re nothing but broken.”

Volkov.

That voice.

That fucking voice.

Bucky didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Every muscle in his body locked, like a tripwire had snapped taut in his chest. The world around him went sharp and silent—no more footfalls, no night breeze, no humming electricity from the docks.

Then—

Static.

Your line went dead.

Gone.

And Bucky snapped.

He was moving before he even realized it—sprinting, boots pounding against the dock’s gravel and steel. The radio in his ear buzzed, someone trying to hail him, but it was just noise. White noise. Meaningless.

His blood roared like fire through his veins, hot and bitter, his heartbeat hammering so loud it drowned out everything but the image—you, helpless, in danger, with that bastard’s voice still echoing in his head. That threat. Those words.

It wasn’t just rage. It was something deeper. Older. Something that lived in the marrow of his bones, coiled like a beast.

But he didn’t lose himself.

Not this time.

No—he harnessed it. Focused it. Weaponized it.

The Winter Soldier was awake—but for once, he wasn’t in control. Bucky was. And that made him even more dangerous.

His metal hand clenched so tightly the plates creaked, servos humming under strain. He leapt over the low railing between two shipping containers, landed in a crouch, and kept going—his movements faster, heavier, more brutal with each second.

He tore through a bolted gate, didn’t even feel the sting of metal slicing his palm. Pain didn’t register. Nothing did. Just the map in his mind—your last known location. The building ahead. That thick steel door.

He saw it, even as his breath fogged in the night air—what Volkov must’ve done. You’d been careful. So fucking careful. But he’d planned for this. Had something in place. A trap meant for you.

The woman he loved.

His wife.

Mine. Mine. MINE.

The thought pulsed with every stride, every heartbeat.

He hit the access panel beside the locked door with the full weight of his vibranium fist. It shattered instantly. Sparks rained as he jammed a wire into the circuitry, bypassing the system with muscle and rage, not finesse.

The door creaked open—and what Bucky saw beyond it turned his fury into something nuclear.

Cameras. Chairs bolted to the ground. A metal table with restraints. Tools. Blood.

And your scent—faint, but there.

He felt his soul fracture for half a second.

Then he moved.

Fast.

Silently.

A predator.

He would tear Volkov apart piece by piece—not for the information, not for revenge. But for you. For every breath he stole from your lungs, for every second of fear he put in your eyes, for daring to think he could touch you.

And if there was a god—he hoped Volkov would scream.

Because Bucky wanted him to scream.

─

The second Bucky breached the reinforced door, the scent of blood, sweat, and fear punched him in the gut.

You.

He felt you in the room before he saw you—your pain, your rage, your heartbeat fraying at the edges. Something ancient and monstrous twisted inside him.

The air changed. He knew before he looked. And then he saw you…

Strapped to a bolted-down chair. Tactical gear torn open. Skin bruised and shivering under flickering light. One wrist raw where the rope had bitten deep. A trail of dried blood traced the curve of your neck. The air hung heavy with copper and mildew, and the blinking red cameras watched like silent executioners.

You looked up—just barely. Your eyes found him.

Fire behind glass.

Tears unshed. Fury held in trembling muscle.

Then Bucky saw him.

Volkov.

Standing just feet away, an iron rod clutched lazily in one hand. A SIG-Sauer P226 slung at his hip. His lips curled into a grin that didn’t quite hide the madness beneath. He hadn’t touched you again—not yet. But the look on his face said he planned to.

“You should’ve brought flowers if you wanted to interrupt,” Volkov sneered. “Didn’t know they let backup dogs run loose these days.”

Bucky didn’t speak.

Not yet.

He walked forward—slow, deliberate, methodical. His breaths were sharp and clipped, like drawing air through broken glass. A predator’s prowl. Precision in every step.

“You here for a trade? A martyr’s end?” Volkov taunted. “C’mon then. Let’s make it cinematic.”

Still, Bucky said nothing.

He moved until he stood directly between you and Volkov—shoulders squared, stance rooted. His left hand—vibranium—automatically reached back, as if shielding you by instinct alone.

Then—

He snapped forward.

His voice tore through the room like a thundercrack.

“This woman—” he roared, pointing directly at you, body shaking with raw fury, “—is my wife!”

The word wife detonated in the air.

Your head jerked slightly. Even through the haze, even through the pain—you heard him.

“MY FUCKING WIFE! Not your toy. Not your hostage. Not something for your sick little games.”

Volkov’s smirk cracked. It slipped—just slightly—but enough to see the twitch in his jaw.

Bucky’s vibranium fingers curled into a fist. The sound was like metal grinding on metal.

“You touched her,” he seethed. “You looked at her like she was yours. I’m going to make you regret ever drawing breath.”

Volkov moved first—fast, confident, stupid.

Bucky met him halfway.

He pulled his sidearm mid-stride and fired. Two shots. One aimed for Volkov’s shoulder, the other for his thigh. Volkov twisted with inhuman reflexes—the first bullet grazed his bicep, the second slammed into a steel support behind him.

Volkov returned fire—a sharp, calculated double tap.

Bucky slid sideways, felt the bullet nick the edge of his arm. Didn’t matter. He was already moving.

They collided like freight trains.

Bucky’s knife flashed out from his belt—a matte black combat blade, narrow and deadly. He slashed upward, fast, aiming for Volkov’s abdomen. The Russian twisted, caught the blow with his forearm—blood sprayed in a fine arc.

Volkov spun, boot kicking Bucky square in the chest. He staggered back one step—just one.

Then launched himself forward again.

Knife to knife now.

Volkov drew his own—shorter, serrated, HYDRA-issued. Their blades clashed, metal sparking, skimming skin and armor. The room filled with the sound of grunts and steel colliding. Bucky’s body was pure muscle and memory—every move learned in blood, every strike meant to kill.

Volkov ducked a slash and drove his blade into Bucky’s left side, just under the ribs.

Shit.

Bucky grunted. Twisted. Let it dig an inch deeper—then used it. He grabbed Volkov’s wrist and pulled, driving his own blade straight into Volkov’s thigh, burying it deep.

Volkov howled.

But he was trained. He didn’t drop.

He struck back with his elbow, cracked it into Bucky’s jaw. The blow rattled Bucky’s brain for half a second—enough for Volkov to sweep his leg under Bucky’s and take him to the floor.

They rolled—grappling, snarling, blades scraping armor and bone. Bucky’s metal hand caught Volkov’s throat. He squeezed—hard. Volkov gagged, slammed his elbow into Bucky’s side, but Bucky didn’t let go.

“You think pain makes you strong?” Bucky growled. “You don’t know pain.”

He slammed Volkov’s head into the ground. Concrete split beneath.

Volkov, bloody and furious, managed to roll away. Pulled a hidden pistol from his ankle holster and fired.

One shot went wild.

The other grazed Bucky’s shoulder, slicing through the edge of his suit.

Bucky dove low—shoulder-first—tackled him against the metal table. It folded in half under their combined weight. Chains rattled down like rain.

Bucky disarmed him in a heartbeat—knife spinning across the floor. Pistol kicked away.

Now it was just them.

Fists.

Steel.

And rage.

Bucky landed a blow to the ribs that bent Volkov sideways, then drove a knee into his gut. Volkov coughed blood, still fighting, still moving. He threw a headbutt. Connected.

Bucky’s vision flashed white. But his body kept going.

He ducked under a punch and drove his metal arm up into Volkov’s chin.

Crack.

Teeth scattered.

Volkov dropped.

But Bucky wasn’t done.

He grabbed him by the collar and threw him across the room—into the steel wall. The impact echoed like thunder. Volkov slumped, dazed, broken.

Bucky moved in.

Each step was deliberate. Measured. Deadly.

Volkov made one last move—limping, bleeding—toward a blade still on the floor.

Bucky stepped into him.

And drove his vibranium fist into Volkov’s gut. Deep. Bones snapped. Blood spattered.

Then came the uppercut. Vicious. Perfect.

Volkov flew backward. Hit the floor. Didn’t get back up.

Bucky stood over him, breathing like a war engine, sweat and blood dripping from his brow, muscles flexing with each ragged inhale.

He could kill him.

One more hit.

One.

But then—

He looked at you.

Your bruised wrists. The blood on your neck. The silent strength in your eyes.

And the fury softened—just enough to make room for control.

Bucky stepped back.

Grabbed one of the thick cargo chains from the floor. Industrial. Cold.

He wrapped it around Volkov like a vice. Again. Tighter. Again. Until Volkov’s ribs creaked and his mouth filled with the taste of metal.

Bucky looped it through the floor bolt. Yanked it tight.

Then knelt, voice low and lethal in Volkov’s ear.

“You’ll live just long enough to rot in a black site,” he hissed. “Every day knowing you lost to me. That you never got to touch her again.”

He stood.

Wiped the blood from his mouth.

Then turned.

And saw you.

Bruised. Bleeding. Breathing.

Still you.

And in that instant, everything else in the world disappeared.

—

The moment his eyes met yours, something in him shattered.

He crossed the room in a heartbeat.

“Doll—” His voice broke, hoarse with something primal.

His hands were already on the restraints, fingers shaking as he worked through the tight buckles with mechanical precision. The cold touch of his vibranium palm met your bruised wrist, and you winced—more from reflex than pain.

“Shit. Sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He flinched like he’d hurt you.

“Bucky,” you whispered. “It’s okay. I’m—”

“No,” he rasped, his gaze sweeping over you like he was cataloging every mark, every scratch, every tear in your clothes. “It’s not. Look at you. Fucking look at you.”

His breath hitched. Blood smeared his temple, a gash cut across his jaw, and the left side of his torso was soaked in red—where Volkov’s blade had torn beneath his ribs—but he didn’t register it. Didn’t care.

He knelt in front of you like a soldier before an altar, pulling the bindings off your ankles with a desperate kind of tenderness. Every time the rope gave way, he touched the skin beneath, thumb brushing gently across raw flesh like he could erase it.

“I should’ve gotten here sooner. I should’ve known.” His voice cracked again. “I heard what he said to you over the comms—I heard—God, baby, I should’ve fucking—”

“Bucky,” you said again, firmer this time. You leaned forward weakly, your hands finding his bloodied face and cupping it between your palms. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

He shook his head like he didn’t believe you. Or couldn’t.

“I saw your face when I walked in,” he whispered. “I saw what he did.”

Your lip trembled, but you forced it still. “He didn’t… get far. I was drugged, restrained—but I don’t think he…” You swallowed hard, bile rising. “I think he wanted to wait. To make it worse. I could feel it.”

Bucky’s entire body stilled. Frozen.

Then his jaw flexed, and a tremor rolled through his shoulders.

“I was going to kill him,” he admitted, voice like shattered glass. “Right there. Would’ve torn him apart with my bare hands and smiled while I did it.”

“I know,” you said softly. “And if you had, I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

His eyes met yours again—steel blue, raw. “But you did stop me, didn’t you?”

You nodded. “Because I still need you, Bucky. I don’t need vengeance. I need you.”

For a long second, neither of you moved.

Then he slowly leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. His blood mixed with your tears. His hand—metal, unyielding—cupped your jaw with a touch softer than silk.

“You’re my whole goddamn world, doll,” he whispered. “They can take the mission. They can take the tech. But they touch you—”

“I know.” You closed your eyes. “They didn’t.”

You sat in silence another beat. Long enough to breathe. Long enough to feel your body again. It hurt—every inch—but it was still yours.

And you were still his.

Finally, you pulled back just enough to look at him again. “Can you move?”

He nodded, wincing as he stood. The stab wound was clearly more than a graze now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

“Good. Because we’re not done yet.” You exhaled and braced a hand on the chair, pushing to your feet.

He immediately steadied you.

“Hey—slow. You sure you’re okay?”

“No,” you said honestly. “But I’m upright. I’m breathing. We came here for more than him.”

Bucky looked at you like you’d just grown wings. Like maybe you were the strongest person he’d ever met.

You gestured to the side door—half-open, dimly lit.

“Volkov said he kept it behind security doors. Tech that could outrun vibranium and adamantium. We find it, we finish this. Together.”

He gave you a long look. Then nodded, bloody and steady.

“Together,” he said.

And this time, it wasn’t a promise.

It was a war cry.

—

You settled beside Bucky, your fingers still trembling from the adrenaline, but your voice stayed steady as you pulled out your comms. The sterile hum of the damaged room was pierced by your quiet command.

“Val, I need backup. Volkov’s down, but his intel’s too valuable to lose.”

Your words felt heavier than air, each syllable soaked in urgency and the weight of what you both had just survived. The faint crackle in your ear answered with Val’s cool, unwavering voice—a beacon cutting through the dark.

“Copy that. Bob and Yelena are on standby in the city. They’re moving in now.”

Relief unfurled inside you—a fragile thread of hope amid the storm. Familiar voices. Reinforcements racing through the city’s shadows toward your location. A lifeline tethered to survival.

You glanced at Bucky, whose breathing had slowed, chest rising and falling like a war drum now beating for peace. Your touch found his bruised shoulder, gentle but grounding—an unspoken promise that this fight wasn’t over, but you’d face it together.

Meanwhile, Bucky turned back to Volkov, seizing the moment to inflict just enough pain to crack the enemy’s stoic facade.

Codes and coordinates spilled out under Bucky’s relentless pressure—every word a strike against Volkov’s will. The new tech’s location was now clear, an ominous prize tucked in a forgotten warehouse.

Without hesitation, Bucky led the way.

Your mind raced as you scanned the data, heart pounding in your chest. The place was rigged—dangerous. Lethal. But destruction was necessary.

Bucky moved with purpose, expertly setting charges that would erase the tech and any trace of its existence.

Explosions roared behind you, shaking the ground. The acrid scent of burning metal and plastic filled the air.

Back in the quiet aftermath, you knelt beside Bucky. Your hands moved carefully over his wounds—bruises blooming purple, cuts still fresh. You ignored the heat of your own exhaustion, focusing on him.

The metallic taste of blood still lingered on his lips, but his skin was warm under your fingertips—healing fast, fueled by sheer will and some stubborn human resilience.

Your touch was gentle. Deliberate. Calming the storm inside him.

His wild eyes softened. He exhaled. The tension in his jaw eased under your care.

Volkov lay unconscious, wrapped tight in steel chains—conscious enough to curse in his dreams, but powerless.

You met Bucky’s gaze.

And in that look, shared a quiet understanding:

The worst was behind you.

For now.

—

The low hum of the jet thrummed around you, the tension from the mission fading like smoke.

Bucky lounged back in his seat, that cocky smirk never leaving his face as he nudged you gently with his metal arm.

“You comfortable now, wife?”

The moment the word left his mouth, Yelena shot upright like a firecracker had gone off beside her. She slammed her fist on the intercom button with enough force to rattle the entire jet cabin.

“You two were fucking?!”

Your cheeks flushed a hot, creeping red, heat blooming across your neck as all eyes snapped to you and Bucky.

Bob burst into delighted applause, grinning ear to ear like he’d just won the lottery.

Yelena’s glare sharpened, her voice dripping with playful disgust.

“Seriously? You could do so much better than some grumpy, hundred-year-old man.”

She shot you a smirk full of challenge.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the soft smile tugging at your lips, your voice low and teasing as you leaned into Bucky’s side.

“I’m too down bad for him already, Lena.”

Bucky caught your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles, his steel-blue eyes sparkling with a tenderness that made your heart thud painfully in your chest.

The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the sterile hum of the jet’s engines.

Yelena groaned, throwing her head back dramatically.

“I’d rather die than witness all this PDA shit in real life. Please, no more!”

Before you could respond, the intercom crackled to life.

Ava’s voice came through, shocked and high-pitched:

“Who—what??”

Then Walker cut in, with his usual dry edge:

“Is the cat out of the bag now?”

Bob chimed in happily, clapping again.

“Finally! Took you two long enough.”

Suddenly, the intercom blasted again, this time it was Alexei—loud, exuberant, completely unfiltered:

“YESSSSSS, AVENGER PAPA AND MAMAAAAAAA!! AVENGER BABY IN MAKINGGG!!”

The cabin exploded into laughter.

Yelena groaned as she slammed the intercom button once more, shaking her head at the glorious madness surrounding you.

Bucky smirked down at you, eyes soft but mischievous.

“Looks like we’re famous now, love.”

You nestled closer, hand tightening around his, feeling the rare calm of being home amidst the chaos of your lives.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #avengers #thunderbolts* era fic #winter soldier fic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky imagines #bucky fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x female reader #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x plus size reader #tw: dark themes #feral bucky barnes #જ⁀➴ by elle

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sweetinsaniiity · 2 months ago

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hiii i have a cnc/dubcon request for san ^^

imagine hard dom!san is about to enlist and his s/o knows how much she'll miss him so she gives him 24 hrs free use. the moment he hears this he can't fall asleep, waits til the clock strikes 12 and starts fucking her in her sleep until she wakes up. throughout the day he doesn't let her rest, making her cockwarm if he's too tired. when the 24hrs is almost up, san doesn't care but she notices, tries to reach for her phone to check the time but he just pins her arm down and fucks her even harder for another few hours

(maybe some cum play would be the cherry on top, san scooping it out to make room for more, then trying to push it back in with his fingers but it keeps gushing out so he fucks it back in, or maybe even making comments about how she'll still be dripping by the time he's discharged)

Admittedly, this was not the easiest thing to procure as this lies beyond my accustomed sphere - out my comfort zone, per se. Not the CNC part, but the free use. But alas, yours truly will always rise to the challenge. I'm hoping this was worth the wait.

Unaware and Unawake

genre/au: nonchalant!Sannie, borderline emotionally constipated but he does genuinely love you, established relationship, military au, not my usual thing tbh because this is a lot of filth rating/warning: PG-18+ so MDNI!!! CNC and dubcon (all completely and explicitly consensual) free use, somnophilia, multiple creampie, multiple orgasm, cockwarming (both pussy and mouth), dacryphilia, cum play, dom!San, creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!) word count: 9.7K words (got carried away with the plot)

He tried his very hardest to control the smallest tick on his facial muscles as he stared at your big, pretty doe eyes looking up at him with such uncertainty.

There was also deep sadness laced underneath all the storm that was brewing in them. San wanted nothing but to reassure you that the both of you were going to be okay, but that wasn’t within his rights because for obvious reasons, he can’t control the way you felt.

“Are you sure about this, San? Tell me,” you frowned deeper, processing the information that he just told you over what you thought would be an uneventful dinner one night.

San had just told you the biggest and most unexpected news he could possibly drop on you - that he was enlisting in the military this upcoming Monday. That was in three days.

“I mean, I’m not trying to change your mind, not at all,” you murmured. “I’m just curious about your thought process, that’s all.”

You watch him sigh ever so slightly, looking back down on his dinner plate, slicing away at the wonderful steak dinner you had prepared for him tonight.

“Are you?” San asked, continuing his slicing with a slow, deliberate motion. He didn’t look at you, didn’t shift and didn’t fidget. It was as if he just told you the current weather situation.

You didn’t take offense at his indifference - not at all. Choi San was just naturally calm, impassive, and stoic. Sometimes, it was mistaken by other people as standoffish and arrogant, but that’s just how your boyfriend was. He was a man of very few words.

Maybe there was something wrong with you. You found this attitude on him insatiably hot, especially the rare times he’d show his softer side to you and you only. He wasn’t particularly outright with his affection, but he would reach out to you every moment he could.

“I suppose,” you shrugged. “I just want to make sure you’ve thought about this well. It just seemed logical to ask, that's all.”

San put the steak in his mouth, meeting your gaze once more. His expression was unreadable - calm, detached, the way he always was. He chewed exaggeratedly, trying to hide the smirk threatening to break his stoicism.

Logical. It was how you were, it was how he was. It was what this relationship was solely built upon. It was like picking a gum flavour in a randomest, dinkiest petrol station situated in the corner of nowhere and not something that would take him away from you, from this - from everything.

But there was fondness in San’s eyes as he stared at you through his lashes. He never tells you enough how much he appreciates you.

You’ve never questioned the way his mind functioned, never second-guessed on supporting him through his decisions no matter how illogical they may sound. You were just there, and he knew that you’d still be there by his side through thick and thin.

Still, it didn’t mean it didn’t pain him to tell you that he was deciding to leave you for the time being and get his military enlistment out of the way. It wasn’t a one and done decision; it was something he’d stewed in and stressed about for weeks.

“I did,” he answered. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you and I could build our life together. I just want to get it over with.”

He casts a discreet gaze on the small drawer he’d put a gift he bought earlier in the day that reminded him of you. San was aware of how nonchalant he comes off, and he was trying his very best to show you that he loved you to the moon and back even though he doesn’t say it often.

He quickly averts his eyes before you notice. You were nothing but keen and observant, after all. Instead, he grabs the small folder that’s been set to his left. He slides it towards you casually like it was a takeout menu.

“Sign it,” he whispered, handing you a pen, purposefully not saying anything about the confused frown on your face.

You stared at San’s impassive face for a couple of seconds before tentatively opening the folder. Your brows automatically raise up to your hairline.

Legal paperwork. Temporary transfer of ownership of San’s business that he built from scratch before he even met you. Your lips quivered as the pen on your hand shook from the nerves, trying hard to concentrate on what the contract in front of you entailed. It was the least you could do.

San found success in starting his own property management company. It was his pride and joy. Every surface of the business he perfected over years, every drop of his blood, sweat and tears combined with all his burned out youth - it was all in there, wrapped up in black ink and legal terms.

And he was asking you to sign your name on it like he was asking to see what your handwriting looked like. Your fingers traced the edge of the paper.

“You trust me that much? San, this is big,” you bit your bottom lip, trying to mask how touched you were by the gesture.

He didn’t answer right away. San crossed his arms, watching your face get more and more emotional by the minute like he hadn’t just handed you the only thing he ever truly loved, besides yourself, of course.

He raised a playful brow, tilting his head - another rare show of how much he let himself loose in your presence. Truly, you had no idea how amazing you were to San. If only he knew how to express himself better.

“It’s either you, or I close the business for two years until I come back,” he finally said, voice low and sincere. “I know I don’t say it much, and I’m truly sorry, my love, but it never meant that I don’t mean it.”

You immediately shook your head at him, wagging the pen in front of his face for effect, too. San’s lips quirked up in the corners, barely anything to be considered a smile, making you giggle out loud. Music to his ears.

“I don’t need you to tell me,” you smiled sweetly at him. “I can feel it, San. I know you love me.”

The decision wasn’t lost on you. The pen dragged smoothly onto the paper, imprinting the utmost trust that San had placed on you. It was far better than love, if someone asked you. Trust was difficult to come by.

But then, you saw it. When San thought you weren’t paying enough attention to him, a real smile passed through his lips. He probably didn’t even notice it, himself. It was the type that brought out his gorgeous dimples that you loved poking to annoy him.

It made your heart skip a beat. Suddenly, a thought crosses your head. Instead of sliding the folder across the coffee table like a transaction, you stood up.

San looked confused, but you walked over to him, slow and steady, and placed it gently back in his hands, a small smirk painting your face. His eyes shifted to you, calm but alert. And just like that, the air between you two changed.

He took the folder, but didn’t move away. “You always were bossy,” he murmured, almost like it was an afterthought.

“Please. You love it.”

His brow twitched, maybe the hint of amusement, maybe something else. He hadn’t stepped back, and neither had you. Something in that expression brought something out of you, and you wanted to make the most out of it.

You placed your leg in between his, dangerously close to that area that ruled San’s head sometimes. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, desire clear in his haze.

It was a defense mechanism on your end. You didn’t want to think about how much you were going to miss San when he was gone, you had plenty of time for that when you’re alone, but the very thought of it was already getting to you. You wanted to be strong for the both of you. The last thing you wanted was for San to worry about you as well when he was away.

You didn’t want his body to be there, but his heart at home with you. He wasn’t going to change his mind. He had probably decided this weeks ago, long before he thought to mention it.

You curled your fingers on his shirt collar, dragging him towards you. The gesture darkened his eyes significantly. You bit your lip to stop your smile, and instead leaned down further, close enough that your breath ghosted warm against his skin, just below his ear.

“You’ve got twenty-four hours,” you whispered, voice low and velvet-smooth. “Free use. No questions asked. You can do whatever you want with me,” you bit his earlobe softly. San groaned, shivering. “And I mean, anything.”

You knew he was going to miss you, too. Maybe even more than you’ll miss him.

San’s jaw clenched so tight, you were slightly afraid that he was going to break in his teeth, his fingers tightened ever so slightly around the folder, the corners crinkled badly. You reckoned you needed to re-print the whole thing now.

You grinned widely, this rush of power suddenly surging through you making you giddy. He turned his head just enough that your lips nearly brushed.

“Dangerous thing to offer,” San said, voice a shade rougher now. His eyes met yours in a heated stare, the intensity of it almost making you falter. Almost.

You subconsciously clenched down there, scoffing at him. “I’m not scared of you.”

His eyes flicked over your face, pausing at your mouth. That almost-smile from earlier threatened to return, but didn’t. The tension was killing you, but you weren’t going to back down. You wanted to see how far San would take your offer, how far you could push him before he broke.

“Not yet, no,” he said, prying your fingers from his collar and pushing you gently away from him so he could stand up and tower over you and smirk cockily at you. Oh, that definitely made you clench harder. “But you should be.”

But that night as San lay on his back, arms folded under his head, staring at the ceiling like it might have the answers, he couldn’t sleep. Turns out, he was the one scared.

He’d tried to brush it off, told himself you were just teasing him and just trying to get a reaction, but your voice echoed in his head like you had whispered it into his bones.

You’ve got twenty-four hours.

And he did tell you that it was a very, very dangerous thing to offer. The possibilities were endless, but that wasn’t what he was worried about.

San meant it when he said that it was literally dangerous. He will break you, and the worst part was that he will have the time of his life seeing your eyes roll behind your head as he made you come over and over again, and even then, he wouldn’t stop.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to see your sleeping form beside him. Your back, the curve of your shoulders rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm as you snoozed away, unaware of the nastiest, most sadistic thoughts slowly forming in San’s head.

Those thoughts sent blood rushing down south. With a deep breath, he carefully lowered his boxers, just enough for his aching, leaking cock to spring free from its confines. He hissed when cold air hit his skin, but it wasn’t enough to deter how hard and erect he was just by looking at your bare shoulders and neck.

Oh, how he’d love to mark your skin akin to a world map, only purplish in bruises instead of the multiple countries he’d take you after he was discharged.

Fine, he thought. He would use you like the whore you were. His right hand would be his only companion for months after he enlists, pretending it was your pussy instead.

San glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, groaning and gritting his teeth in annoyance when the clock showed 11:45 P.M. You didn’t explicitly say when to start, but San knew better than to jump you immediately.

He smirked cruelly, you thought you were so slick, always thinking that you had him figured out, but he knew you like the back of his hand. You were definitely expecting him to immediately take your offer, but no, he was going to milk his time.

San grasped his cock, sighing in a quiet but sharp breath, biting his lips to keep his pleasured groans to himself so as not to wake you up. He was harder than he has ever been in his life, and ironically, he wasn’t even doing anything with you. His eyes raked at your sleeping figure, squeezing his weeping cock tighter in his hand.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long unless he paced himself, but he couldn’t help tugging his cock a bit back and forth, up and down, the sound of his fists slapping against his shaft turning him on more than ever.

He couldn’t believe it - he was literally jerking off next to you as he slept. He felt dirty, but the thought of it could almost make him bust. He used his palm to rub some of his precum as lube, but when that wasn’t enough, he positioned his hand in front of his mouth to spit on it.

But, he stopped at the last minute. He looked at the clock once again, rolling his eyes when he realized that three minutes had only passed.

He waited a bit to see if you were going to move, but no, you hadn’t. You were still sleeping, still peaceful. Carefully, he scooted beside you, his face hovering over you slightly until his fingers found your lips, delicately parting them so he could coat them with your saliva.

When that was said and done, he laid back down comfortably and closed his eyes, stroking his cock with your saliva as his lube. The filthiness of it made his cock twitch in his hand.

He was extremely turned on and he was so excited that he almost finished right there and then, but he didn’t waver as he continued to stoke away as he stared at your beautiful face. But he’d waited, kept himself patient and let the tension grow as he held breath.

The minutes couldn’t have rolled slower, but the moment the clock said 12:00 A.M., he didn’t hesitate.

He shifted forward, arm sliding around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. You stirred with a soft inhale, and for a second, he froze. He thought you were waking up, maybe he was a little too excited, but you weren’t.

A short, sarcastic laughter of disbelief escapes him. San couldn’t believe it, but more so, towards himself. He realized he didn’t want you awake. You waking up would mean that the excitement would be gone.

You were still asleep, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen to you.

The thought of it actually put a slight damper on his erection. An evil smirk decorates his face as he resisted the urge to wrap his hand on your pretty neck. Despite that thought, he wouldn’t mind you waking up in the process of him defiling your body. It got him harder than he thought he already was.

It aroused him greatly. The thought of how forbidden this all was. However, he had explicit permission from you. Still, he wouldn’t want to hurt you.

San carefully pushed up the oversized shirt you liked wearing to sleep and admired your exposed body. He caught sight of your perky tits, they were just the right size for him and his hands. He didn’t hesitate further and caught your nipples between his fingers.

When all you did was let out a small, pitiful whimper in your sleep, it was when it fully hit him. You were really at his mercy. It intoxicated him, all this power.

He stroked his cock as he played with your nipples, pinching them a little harder than usual just to see if you were going to stir. This time he couldn’t help but furrow his brows, he didn’t realize you slept this heavily.

As he continued to knead the soft flesh of your breasts, his eyes suddenly went down on your parting lips, your light snores filling in his ears. The idea of his cock in your mouth as you snored started to arouse him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, hovering over you, careful not to crush you beneath him as he started to line up his cock onto your plush, inviting lips.

A surge of pleasure shoots up his spine at the sight. A desire for excitement at the thought of him doing something technically morally wrong gave him a sort of kick he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

He leaned down, giving your forehead a gentle, chaste kiss before he filthily inserted two of his fingers inside your mouth, exploring the wet cavern roughly, not even caring if you woke up at this point.

“Fuck,” San hissed as he slid his cock into your mouth. He withdrew, not wanting to choke you in your sleep, but he couldn’t help but chase that euphoric sensation and thrust back in ever so slightly so you wouldn’t be startled awake and, well, actually choke.

He worked his way down your body, his right hand mindlessly alternating between kneading and squeezing your tits while his left played with your dripping cunt, rubbing at your clit slowly and rhythmically.

Just when he thought that this couldn’t get any better, you started to make weak, suckling motions on his cock as if in sleep, you knew that you had to please San. You twitched a little when he jerked a bit and pressed on your clit a little too hard in surprise, but that didn’t rouse you or stop your sucking.

It was the most peaceful San had ever seen you, if it wasn’t for your mouth stuffed full of his cock. He barely had time to pull out and come on your chin and neck, his warmth spurting out in bursts of endless streams.

Sweat pooled on his temples. He smirked, what a sight you were - covered in his cum without even knowing. If his painting skills weren’t garbage, he would immortalize this on a canvas.

Unfortunately, he had to wipe all of it away before he covered you again with the blankets. He was spent for the night, so he went to the bathroom to douse himself in cold water before he went back and tried to sleep beside you.

But he couldn’t sleep, for the life of him. He cursed under his breath so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if God suddenly struck him with lightning. He pictured your face streaked with his cum once more, and it was enough for him to get aroused again.

He could feel his cock twitching and pulsing in his boxers again. He wondered how in the world he could feel so aroused when he had just orgasmed.

He tossed and turned, tried to erase the erotic image of you away from his head. San even started to picture dead animals and some random images of naked grannies in his head to will his erection to, hopefully, go away, but to no avail. He wanted you, and he wanted you so, so bad.

It was well into the wee hours of the morning when he decided that he was going to have you, consequences be damned. This time, he was going to have you in the way that you deserved. He was going to put you in your place.

It was almost four in the morning when he parted your legs open. Usually, he took his time to finger you and get you nice and prepped for him, but he could barely wait to be inside your warm heat this time. San hugged you from behind, spooning you while he nudged the tip of his cock at your entrance, groaning when he slipped easily inside.

He went slow at first, still not wanting to hurt you, but gradually, he shifted and decided to fuck you while he was on top. He couldn’t take it anymore, he fully jammed himself deeper in you and fucked you fast and hard, his balls slapping lewdly against your ass.

You stirred under him, startled awake. At first, you were confused at the tingly, delicious feeling penetrating you, until you locked eyes with San who was just going at it on top of you. He smirked at you as he claimed your pussy, and the moan that you let out was loud enough to wake up every single person in the neighbourhood.

“Sannie, mmm, s-shit,” you stuttered, still stumbling over your words as you were still half-asleep,

San wrapped an arm around your lower back, effectively burying himself completely deeper, hitting that spot inside you that had you squealing in delight. “Don’t fight it, let me have you,” he kissed your jaw, his silent growls hitting your ears as he continued with his onslaught.

It was when you realized how sticky your mouth kind of felt. After a moment, arousal spread through you when you realized that you were tasting warm cum on your tongue. Had San already had his fill with you before you even woke up?

The thought had you wrapping your arms around San’s broad shoulders, scratching at his back in retaliation, though it didn’t diminish how much it turned you on that he took you without you knowing.

“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” San growled as he thrust in your cunt roughly without any mercy. He wouldn’t stop now that he could do whatever the hell he wanted with you.

You fluttered, squeezed, around him. “Damn, that feels good,” he grunted. He didn’t need to stay quiet any longer, he could curse and groan as loudly as he damn well pleased now that you were fully awake.

“Oh God, p-please,” you lifted your hips up the bed, placing your hands on San’s plump behind to get him deeper inside you.

San grinned, his growls sound more primal through his teeth. He had known you were perfect, so perfect for him, but this just completely solidified it. You were so responsive to him, gasping as your pussy took him.

It didn’t take long for him to burst, his hips drilling into you hardly one last time before his seed painted your tight hole white. He felt your nails scrape across his back, and through the haze of his orgasm, he could feel your orgasm peek through, albeit less strong than the usual ones he’d give you.

“Had fun?” You asked with a small giggle as San panted on top of you.

“No,” he smirked cockily, rolling his hips when you pouted. He groaned, his soft cock sliding out from the mess of cum he’d dumped into you. One of many today. “Not yet.”

You were starting to regret your decision. Well, not entirely, anyway. You should’ve known how shrewd and cunning San was, but you had severely underestimated him.

When you woke up a few hours later, San wasn’t on the bed with you anymore. That was fine because you knew he was most likely doing his daily morning jogs. If he had time, he’d usually get you coffee and croissants along the way, too.

Definitely a man of few words, but an absolutely consistent man of actions. But just in case he didn’t have time, you decided to make breakfast.

You were standing at the stove, in the process of oiling it and putting the heat on, when you heard the front door open, San’s familiar footsteps filling in the silence of the kitchen.

“Hey, love,” you murmured when you felt him behind you.

He hummed, not bothering to say a word, as he circled his hand up to your waist and pulled your face to his for a quick peck on the lips. You bit back a smile when he set down your coffee and croissants to the side.

You were expecting him to sit on the table to wait for you to finish, but he repositioned himself behind you, his warm breath hitting the back of your neck. You shivered at the contact, and it definitely wasn’t because of the morning breeze.

At first, he was tender. San nosed your jaw, his teeth light grazing the sensitive parts of your neck. You let out a breathy moan when he reached up and palmed your breasts through your shirt - well, it was technically his shirt - your nipples hardening against his teasing hands.

You tried to turn and kiss him again, but he held you tight, grinding his hips against your ass with his half-hard cock. It was when you felt him snap.

He grabbed your hips hard - hard enough to leave marks. “S-San,” you whined in pain when he pinched your nipples, squirming against his touch.

“Shut your mouth,” he grumbled, thoroughly turned on at the sight of you wearing his shirt, lifting it enough to grab a handful of your plump ass.

You had expected restraint. Maybe something slow, almost sweet. But no, that wasn't how he worked, not when the clock struck and the rules were finally gone by your own accord.

He wasn’t just taking what you offered it - he was owning it. You felt it in the way his grip tightened when you gasped and in the way his mouth found your throat like it had been waiting for permission to devour you.

And he was going to swallow you whole like it was the first war he intended to win before he even enlisted.

“San, slow down—oh!”

You choked out audibly when he didn’t hesitate to rip his shirt off of you in pieces. With a harsh tug, he turns you around, dragging you like a ragdoll towards his direction. “No, this twenty-four hours is mine,” he barked. “Come here.”

And he did something you were not expecting, not in a million years. You yelped when his arms swept across the table like a madman, the table and the whole house shaking as all the plates, mugs, and glassware you set on the table all crashed down the floor, the sharp edges of broken pieces scattering like shrapnel.

Your jaw dropped, startled. “San! What the hell—”

He spun you to face him, hands firm, eyes dark with something you hadn’t seen in him before - something that wasn’t just hunger, but need. It was nothing short of raw and wild.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he said, voice low and tight, like it was dragged from somewhere deep.

His mouth was on yours before you could speak. He kissed the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, leaving a trail of heat as he pressed you back against the table, reckless and relentless.

“You broke everything,” you whispered against his lips, half-laughing, half-breathless.

“I’ll buy you the whole damn store when I get back.”

He was lifting you onto the edge of the counter, hands gripping your thighs, the sound of broken ceramic crackle as he moved. But he didn’t flinch, because to him, nothing mattered in that moment except you.

Not the mess. Not the noise. Not the goodbye waiting on the other side of the sunrise.

You didn’t need prepping, San was able to slip inside you once more with ease. He didn’t wait for you to adjust, he immediately started a rough pace that had the table underneath you shaking with the force of his thrust.

“Ah, yes,” he laughed sadistically as he fucked into you roughly. “This is what I want.”

You couldn’t do anything except open your mouth to let out the most wanton of moans and just take the delicious abuse of his cock hitting pleasurably inside of you. You moved your hands to try and grab the edges of the table, but San stopped you.

“No, no, no, my little slut,” he growled, slapping them off, making you whimper, the slight sting of it going straight down your fluttering pussy. “Hands and eyes on me.”

You rolled your eyes at the back of your head, mumbling something out loud that turned out to be gibberish. “What was that?” San snapped.

“H-Harder,” you whimpered, drool pooling at the sides of your mouth and flowing out down the table. San’s cock grew impossibly harder at how cock dumb you looked right now. “Harder, San, harder—”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he ploughed, harder at your command per curse.

He wasn’t going to last long and you knew it. His hands wrap around your neck, using it as momentum to push you deeper and deeper onto his throbbing erection, like his goal was to have your guts rearranged by the time he was done.

He stills, his warmth spilling inside of you once more. A growl resounds from the back of his throat as he slapped his hips two more times before he let go of your neck. “You okay?” San asked, tucking your hair behind your ears, his voice hoarse, cracking in the middle.

You pouted. “I didn’t come.”

He raised a brow, a ghost of a smirk threatening to break from his lips. “I know,” he chuckled darkly. “I’m gonna pull out, yeah? Put your legs up.”

You frowned, but moaned anyway when he pulled out, pushing your legs high up in the air. He leaned down, laughing smugly as he stared lewdly down there. You blushed in embarrassment, but didn’t say anything.

“Holy fucking shit, I came a lot,” he shook his head in amusement. “Shit, that’s a lot of cum.”

You were about to retort something ridiculous when he turned back to look at you, all amusement gone from his eyes. “I’m going to take a nap,” he mumbled with a hint of command in it. “You better not let any drop of this out. Not a single one.”

Your face turns even redder at how filthy his request was - how it turned you on to not be able to say no. “B-but how? I-I don’t know how to,” you sputtered out.

He shrugged. “Not my problem.”

Even after he carried you to the couch so you wouldn’t step on glass, and even after he had cleaned up and vacuumed all the mess, that smug smirk never left his lips.

You resorted to clenching your pussy so his sperm wouldn’t drip out of you. God, you thought. It was so filthy, so dirty, and something you never thought San would ever ask of you. But you loved every bit of it.

You went and did your daily routine, San’s cum still inside of your clenched cunt. It was difficult, sometimes you’d forget and you’d feel the sticky warmth begin to trail down, but before it oozed out, you would clench back again.

You decided to go to the bathroom to check - even the thought of this made you blush as if you and San hadn’t just fucked on the kitchen table - just to see the state of your pussy full of San’s cum when you were suddenly pulled into the bedroom where San was napping.

“S-San?” You yelped when his sharp eyes took in your form, his tongue darting out to lick his lips salaciously.

“Take your clothes off,” was all he said.

It was how you found yourself face down on the bed, your hips up in the air with your legs sprawled open for San to admire your glistening hole. He groaned, seeing all his cum still contained inside your inviting pussy.

“What a good girl,” he chuckled darkly, trying to contain his excitement at the prospect of you literally doing anything he wanted even if it’s just for today. “You deserve a reward.”

He slid a finger into your soaking, wet opening, pushing his trickling seed inside you. It produced an obscene, squelching sound that went straight to his aching cock. Without thinking, he dived in, his tongue automatically latching on your swollen clit as he teased your cunt with little swirls.

“W-What are you doing, San,” you squirmed, slightly alarmed, fisting the bed sheets so tight, your knuckles turned white.

It was completely fueled by passion on his end. He moved his head lower, running his tongue up and down your slit and flicked it back and forth over your clit. Pushing his tongue into you, his mouth was assaulted by the salty, slightly bitter, taste of his own cum. It was certainly a new experience for him, but nonetheless, it served to turn him on even more.

You had begun to relax, pushing your ass subconsciously on San’s face. He was more than happy to oblige, his rough hands gripping on your thighs as he ate you out with more urgency.

He dove two fingers back into you, all the while he alternated between sucking your clit and finger-fucking you. He moved faster, making you moan loudly. You were so loud, it spurred him on even more.

“Oh, G-God, San, San, San,” you screamed when he hit that particular spot deep inside of you with just his fingers.

But it was the vibrations of his laughter that had you exploding on his face. He felt your pussy pulsate on his fingers, and it was when he knew that you had come.

You kept trembling with every touch, and he wanted to gloat, but all that died down when he heard your sniffles. He quickly laid down beside you, your ass still in the air, and shushed you. “Too much?” San frowned.

You shook your head, your tears still falling. “Just overstimulated.”

“Good or bad?”

You laughed wetly. “Are you kidding me? That was amazing.”

You leaned in to kiss him, mewling when his lips felt sticky with his own release from eating you out. Without thinking, you grabbed onto his crotch, pleased to find that he was very much hard underneath your fingers.

It was all he needed to position himself behind you, his cock snug inside your wet heat once more. It was slow and easy this time - he didn’t want to overstimulate you further, but the truth was, the sight of you crying lit up a fire inside him that he didn’t know existed.

He rolled his hips roughly once just to see your reaction. Just as expected, more tears of overstimulation flew from your eyes. He felt his cock twitch, and before he knew it, he was ramming into you like an animal in heat.

“Look at me,” he demanded roughly, slapping your ass once to get your attention.

Your eyes were wet with tears, the mascara you were wearing running down your face. “Oh my fucking God,” San moaned, whined, ravaging you from behind so hard, your head had hit the headboard multiple times from the sheer force of his thrusts.

When he finished, you were expecting him to make you keep his cum inside you again for God-knows-how-long, but what you were not expecting was for him to go back down on you again before hovering over you.

“Open your mouth, love,” he coaxed, tapping your chin to get you to stay awake.

He tilted his head down, his tongue already out before you knew it.Your breath hitched when you saw the obscene trail of semen spill from his tongue before drops of it fell straight into your mouth.

God, it was so sloppy. He smirked, mouth still opened up. Every second stretched out, drawn out like he wanted you to feel everything.

When it was over, you swallowed, throat burning. He pulled back, eyes dark. “You okay?” San asked, voice rough.

You nodded, barely sentient, and his smile told you he knew exactly what he’d done.

You’d like to believe your relationship with San was ordinary. Not in a bad way, you did feel like every couple out there. You loved each other dearly, you fought ferociously, and throughout all of those, you stuck with each other despite your very obvious flaws.

But one thing you never thought you’d have to think about was how truly, utterly insatiable San was today.

“Sannie, ngh,” you whined pathetically, your cunt squeezing his cock weakly.

He groaned, sighing, as he wrapped his arms around you tightly from behind. “Get some rest,” he said tiredly, voice rough with the need to sleep.

After that sloppy session of him eating his cum and making you eat it in return, he fucked you twice some more, an hour apart from each other. They were both slow and lazy, but both mind blowing, nonetheless.

Needless to say, your body felt like it’s been run through with a pick up truck. You were exhausted.

And San was, too, but clearly, that wasn’t enough to deter him. You were lying peacefully on the bed, just browsing through your phone while San showered. When he came out, he laid down next to you, inserting himself back inside you, his cock hard but unmoving.

“B-But how?” You blurted out, wrapping the blanket around your naked body, ignoring how full you currently felt down there.

“By being a good cock sleeve and letting you cockwarm me,” San replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Maybe it was your body giving out on you from the strenuous activity of the continuous sex, or maybe it was how warm and safe you felt being in San’s arms, but by the grace of God, you were able to fall asleep, San’s cock still snug inside you while he, himself, snored away.

Luckily, he left you alone for a couple of hours. You woke up late in the afternoon when the sun was almost down, your entire body sore. You were saddened when you found that San wasn’t lying beside you - though if you were being completely honest, you just wanted to wake up stuffed full of cock.

“Dummy,” you giggled fondly, shaking your head as you read the note that he left on the nightstand, stating that he had ordered some food for you and left it in the kitchen.

You tried not to feel down as you got dressed and went down to eat. San had to leave to settle his company because when he enlists soon, the temporary ownership he was transferring to you was going to be a massive change, after all.

Luckily, you wouldn’t need too much time to adjust. You loved San so much that you took it upon yourself to learn the intricacies of his company, staying up late with him for so many nights to help him out even though you barely knew what you were doing.

He would never say it out loud, but the fondness in his eyes as he looked at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking told you enough. San was always more than happy to answer your every question.

But you knew why he was doing this. He had co-owners, seven of them, to be exact, who were his lifelong best friends. He could have chosen one of them to run the company while he was gone. They were more than competent and would be a more viable option than you’d ever be.

San didn’t give it to you because it made the most sense, he gave it to you because you made sense to him.

You closed your eyes, forgetting the kitchen that surrounded you and just focused on the sensation of San’s hands holding onto you, the ghost of his touch guarding your thoughts.

The thoughts he knew because he knew you like the back of his hands; he knew how your mind functioned and spiralled, especially if left alone for too long.

He hadn’t just trusted you with his empire, he was protecting you.

You could think clearer now that his cock wasn’t plugging your cunt and your mind. He didn’t want you to think too much, to slowly lose your sanity in his absence, to miss him too much while he was in the military, equally missing you. The biggest difference between you and him was that he knew how to set his emotions aside, you were only good at ignoring it.

He always pretended that he didn’t care, but he cared more than anyone you knew. Even when he rammed inside you roughly, you could see the emotions passing through his eyes. Fear. Love. Longing.

He didn’t need to say a lot of things, because you just knew. He thought you didn’t notice when he held onto you a little too tight, not willing to let you, and you understood - he was leaving, but he wasn’t letting go.

San was giving you a piece of himself to hold on to, because it was the only way he knew how to say those things he had a difficult time saying.

Don’t forget me. Stay busy. Stay whole. Be patient. Please wait.

You didn’t notice when the first tear slipped down your cheek, and then, you felt it - a thumb so gentle you barely felt it brush against your wettened cheeks.

San didn’t say anything, just kept wiping away the tears you didn’t know were still falling. His hand lingered at your cheek, his brow furrowed like your sadness physically pained him.

“H-Hey,” you tried to smile, but it ended up looking like a grimace. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just a little in my head. I’m fine.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know you are.”

He held your face a moment longer than necessary. The way his eyes lingered a little too long on your lips and you could physically feel the change in his demeanor.

And then he looked away. Just for a beat. Like he was trying to reel something back in before it slipped. You were still in his shirt. Still sitting there, legs bare, hair tousled, tears drying on your skin.

He was trying - God, he was trying - to hold the line. You reached out, fingers curling lightly around his wrist. “You okay?”

That was the breaking point, because you weren’t supposed to ask him that. Not now. Not when you were the one crying. Not when he was the one leaving.

He exhaled sharply through his nose and looked back at you, and this time the control wasn’t just slipping - it was gone.

“I’m not,” he said hoarsely. “Not when you look at me like that.”

The revelation had you reeling, and your lips parted. It caught his attention, but he didn’t move, and neither did you. Instead, you clutched his shirt tighter.

“You’re crying, you’re vulnerable. I should, fuck, I should walk away right now.” he murmured, almost like he was reminding himself. “But I can’t.”

And then he kissed you. And when he pulled back just enough to speak, he whispered, “I wanted to give you space, but fuck, I want you too much.”

Because you were his. Because he was yours. And because twenty-four hours would never be enough. But he wasn’t going to touch you, not this time. Plus, his dick was spent.

He smiled, pulling you up by the arm. “Come,” he said. “I have work to do in the office, would you like to accompany me?”

Whatever you choose, he’d accept. He could have had you again, could’ve drowned in you to forget both of your worries, but he can’t. He just wants you near, and maybe that meant even more to him.

It was how you found yourself curled against his arms as he typed on his laptop with one hand, his other arm wrapped around you possessively. You watched him for a while, curled under the blanket, the steady rhythm of his typing filling the room.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what almost happened. The way his resolve almost melted like you were the one in control of the situation. But you respected it when he pulled back. It was admirable really, you bet it was difficult.

You tried to focus on something else. Anything else. But the air between you hadn’t cleared - it had just thickened. You bit your lips, a sudden thought passing through your head as you stared at San’s side profile. God, you thought, can this man get any more attractive?

Apparently, San can sense it, too. The growing tension, just laying still in the silence that enveloped the two of you. He couldn’t help but stare at the way the blanket would slide off of your shoulders when you shifted to get comfortable, the way you stretched and it would push your perky tits up on his arm.

He went back to typing, but his posture shifted. Straighter. Stiffer. Like he was holding something back with both hands.

You splayed a hand over San’s belly, skimming your fingers lower to trace random, abstract patterns over his taut skin out of sheer boredom. San bit his lip, resisting the urge to groan under your touch, a static buzz running up the column of his spine.

You were about to lower your fingers to touch the waistband of his boxers when San’s hand stopped yours in a panic. “Don’t,” he manages to let out. “I’m really trying to hold out here, love, don’t fucking tempt me.”

You shrugged, not meaning to actually do what he thought he was doing. You moved your hand away sheepishly, but you did the worst thing you could ever possibly do at this moment - you looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes. Something in him just snapped.

Fuck it, he thought.

“S-San, I’m s-sorry,” you whined when he pulled your hair down with one hand while his other hand already began to work on his pants. You swallowed when he gripped his hard, leaking cock in his hand, stroking it. “Please, I’m so sore and tired—”

“Twenty-four hours, remember? You’ve got six more hours, tough it out,” San raised a brow. You whimpered when he gripped your hair harder. “Don’t worry,” he smirked. “I’m a little spent myself, however…”

Fuck, if his refusal to let you rest didn’t turn you on. You instantly felt your nether regions slick up with his words.

You sputtered when he began to lower your head, slapping the tip of his cock lewdly on your lips. “Open up,” he ordered.

You let the fat tip of his cock rest on the flat of your tongue, feeling your throat automatically open up for the intrusion like it knows that its only job right now was to take San all the way in until your throat couldn’t take him anymore. You couldn’t help but groan softly, the familiar feeling of San’s girth, the musky scent of him, and just about everything made your head spin.

San lets out a husky moan as he squeezes the base of his shaft, fondling his balls a little as you adjust to his length. “Stay right there, love, I like this right now,” he groaned.

You hummed as San went back to typing immediately while your mouth just warmed his cock just right as you laid down on the couch. In a peculiar way, it felt sensual and intimate. You let your eyes flutter, focusing on nothing but the feeling of San’s cock lodged in your throat - the heat and the taste of it, especially.

Cockwarming your boyfriend while he worked was definitely one of the things you never really expected because when San works, he’s pretty much locked into it until he deems it otherwise. But here you were, curled up and feeling very cozy on San’s lap with his balls kissing your chin.

You lost track of time, letting out a muffled groan once in a while when you’d feel San adjust himself and, therefore, humping his cock deeper in your voice box by accident. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d thank your lucky stars that he’d trained your gag reflex a long, long time ago.

San didn’t stop working, and with the warmth of his body, the repeated clacking of the keyboard, and his steady breathing, it wrapped you like a lullaby. Before long, you felt your eyes closing. It reminded you of last night when he woke you up with him fucking you.

What you would give to experience that type of pleasure again. There was something about relinquishing all control to him that turned you on so much.

But you didn’t have to wait long. You groaned, disoriented, limbs heavy, mind still caught in that quiet fog between dreaming and waking. You were about to sit up, but suddenly, you felt a stabbing zing of pleasure down there that sent stars in your vision. “San! Oh—”

San lifts your legs up, leaning close to press your lips together for a sweet, sinful kiss. You swallow a whine when he eases on top of you, burying himself completely up to the hilt.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby, what are you doing to me?” San moans out, his thrusts so agonizingly slow that you feel that familiar heat build up inside your lower belly. He tips his head into your neck. “Y/N,” he moans again, long and low.

“A-Ah, how long w-was I out?” You asked, your sleepy eyes gazing back at his lust-filled ones. “Fuck, that’s it, just like that,” you gasped, holding onto his arm for support. “I love you, San.”

“Love you too, baby,” he says, voice rough, smoothing a hand up and down your spine as he slowly fucks up into you. “Couple of hours. God, I’m gonna come.”

You try to rock back to meet each slow thrust, not wanting San to go faster so much as you want him deeper. “Please,” you whined.

He groans, spilling his seed deep into you for what you assumed was the last time for tonight. He puts all his weight onto you, careful not to crush you, heaving repeated breaths that he tried to catch before he gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

He pulls out, going down on you again, and for a second, you thought he was going to suck his own cum out again and give it to you. The very thought of it had you blushing madly up to your ears.

Imagine your surprise when you felt his fingers dig into you, instead. “W-What are you doing?”

He eyes you once, a small smirk painting his lips, groaning under his breath at the sight of his cum just pouring out of you. “I’m making room for more,” he flatly said, scooping his cum out of you with his fingers.

It had you whining and squeezing against his fingers at how filthy and erotic the act of it was. He clicks his tongue, though, because no matter what he did, your pussy just kept gushing everything out. “Fuck, love, looks like you’ve finally reached your limit,” he laughed.

“Funny,” you deadpanned, trying to pretend that it didn’t turn you on.

It was probably midnight by now, no, you were pretty sure it was past midnight now. You stretched your arm - just now realizing you were in bed - to try and grab your phone from the nightstand to check the time, but you gasped when your arms were grabbed roughly.

“San?” You tilted your head in confusion, but all that did was make him pin your arms down to your sides.

Your heart stilted in your chest. He didn’t say anything, but he had that animalistic look in his eyes. And then, it hits you. “San,” you gulped. “How long have you been fucking me in my sleep?”

He smirked, pinning your wrists with more added weight. “Does it matter?”

Now that you were thinking about it, your cunt felt abnormally sore. Your eyes fluttered shut when San thrusted sharply once into you in one go, fucking his cum back into with his cock.

And just when you thought it was impossible, San fucks you hard - he fucks you the hardest he’s ever fucked you in general. It had your shrill voice bouncing obnoxiously throughout the room along with the loud squelching of his previous cum.

“Take it, you whore, take my fucking cock,” he roared amidst your screams.

He gripped your hair in one hand and buried his face into your shoulder to muffle his noises. The tears and spit dampened his skin as you continued to take what he was giving you. He could feel his balls drawing up tight, all of his muscles coiling in preparation for the orgasm he knew was coming.

Your mind automatically went to your thoughts when you woke up today - the regret. You had definitely underestimated the way San took advantage of this deal you had going on, but that wasn’t what made you regret this.

Because you’d thought you had power when you made the offer. You’d thought it was your way of controlling the goodbye; of saying, fine. Take this. Remember me like this.

But he turned it inside out, and now, you were the one unraveling beneath him.

“God, I fucking love you,” he moaned out, marking your neck up with the abstract patterns of his lips. “You don’t know how much you mean to me.”

And worst of all, he enjoyed it. Not just the act. Not just your body. He enjoyed seeing you like this. Honest. Shaken. Open in a way you never let yourself be.

“I l-love—San, God, p-please,” you stuttered, your tongue lolling out pathetically from your mouth. The low, pleased hum in his throat when you tried to form words and failed spurred you on.

He was always so still, so unreadable until now. Now, he wasn’t stoic - he was focused. Just your body, your breath, and the way you whispered his name like it meant something, it was all he needed right now

And for the first time, he let himself show it - how much he wanted you. How badly he’d miss you. How he’d burn down everything else, piece by piece, just to make these hours count.

“Gonna fuck my cum into you so deep, love,” his breathing was laboured, his hips stuttering into a rhythm without any dynamics in them. “Maybe you’ll still be dripping with my cum by the time I get discharged.”

That imagery was what sent you over the edge. The very thought of it in the back of your head already had you getting hot and bothered for the next time you’d see each other again.

San's eyes rolled back in pleasure and he groaned loudly. He wished this could last forever, but he was genuinely spent now. What he wouldn't give to have you crying on his cock every day, giving you load after load of cum. The very thought made him tremble.

There were no more orgasms that you could give him, being spent from the entire day of just having his cock inside you, but you still fluttered weakly against his cock, squeezing and milking it for all its worth. It still felt so good on your end.

San didn’t move away nor did he let go. He wasn’t ready, and he also knew you weren’t ready either. You didn’t dare breathe or make a sound as you tried to level yourself back to your body. Not yet.

Not when his hands were on you like that. Not when he looked at you like this. Not when he touched you like you were the only thing he wasn’t willing to leave behind.

If tonight was all you had left, then you wanted to remember this.

Against your will, your tears fell. All this was a distraction from the reality that you were going to be without San for two years straight and now that it was over, it was hitting you all at once.

He held you tighter when he felt your body shake and tremble and maybe, that’s what did it for him too.

Then he finally spoke, low and unsteady. “I hate this.”

You lifted your head, just enough to see his face. His eyes were locked somewhere across the room, like he couldn’t bear to look at you while he said it.

“I hate knowing you’re gonna be here and I won’t be,” he continued. “I hate that this is the only option I have because I’d have to go to the military anyway, so I’d rather do it now.”

Your heart was already breaking open again, tears slipping silently down your cheeks as you stared at him. He quickly wipes your tears, alarmed. He gets it, he was never one to let his feelings out.

Something tugged at you from your chest, and you needed to come clean to him. “What if you change your mind?” You asked quietly, your voice smaller than you meant it to be. “What if two years from now, after being away, you realize you never loved me?”

San went deathly still and you almost took the question back, but you had to say it. It was what has been bothering you the entire time. He didn’t answer, he just looked at you, steady and quiet.

“What if you go away, and two years from now, you realize you don’t love me the same way?” The words tumbled out like you’d been holding them in for too long. “That maybe this was just comfort?”

He didn’t flinch, but his heart squeezed tight in his chest, hurt that you would feel that way. It was what made him realize that just because he gave you his business doesn’t equate to security even though he trusted you with everything he had.

He glanced at the drawer again where he stored the gift he had bought for you yesterday, the one that he’d been casting discreet glances at, the one that reminded him of you so, so much. He exhaled slowly, and without a word, he leaned over to open the drawer to finally take it out.

San pulls out a small box and your breath instantly catches. He turns back towards you, not meeting your eyes, and opens it gently with practiced calm, like he didn’t want to die with nervousness as his heart thudded against his ribs.

Your lips parted, but no words came.You stared at him, stunned, a fresh wave of tears welling up, but different. This time, it was with warmth.

The box sat there in his hand but with that quiet steadiness that you loved about him that he always carried with him, even when the world around him trembled.

“You want proof I won’t change my mind?” he said, voice low and steady. “This is it.”

You blinked, the sting of tears returning as your heart pressed harder against your ribs. You looked down at the ring. Then back at him.

He looked up at you, finally meeting your eyes. “I want to come back to you,” he said, the vulnerability in his eyes making your eyes sting with more tears. “I’ve been carrying this around for months. Never knew when was the right time. I guess there’s not really a perfect one.”

“You are my home, Y/N,” he smiled softly. "And I wouldn’t be leaving anything behind if I didn’t already decide that everything I want is right here.”

And suddenly, the fear inside you didn’t feel so loud anymore. You took the ring from his hand, sliding it onto your finger like it had always belonged there. You didn’t say yes - you didn’t have to.

His shoulders dropped the moment it was done. Not dramatically just a quiet, subtle release like he was breathing out for the first time in hours. Then, for once, his voice faltered. “Will you wait for me?” San asked, hesitant.

You leaned forward, touching your forehead to his. “Don’t ask me if I’ll wait for you like I’d ever do anything else.”

“I’ll come back to you,” he said. “No matter what happens. I swear to you, I’ll come back and marry you. I know I don’t say much, but I promise you that.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, because even though his voice was still calm, and his face didn’t show much, he was holding your hand like a man trying to memorize the feeling of home.

You wiped your face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Well, that was the least romantic proposal I’ve ever seen.”

His brow lifted. “You said yes. I gave you the business and a ring. What more do you want, fireworks?”

You smirked. “Maybe. A little.”

He groaned softly, pulling you into his chest. “I should’ve just eloped in silence.”

You grinned against him. “And miss all this romance?”

“Yes,” he rolled his eyes, not bothering to argue with you because that’s how much he loved you.

You laughed, and even though your chest still ached, even though goodbye was still coming. For now, you had this - San, a ring, and a future to look forward to.

Dividers by : @sweetmelodygraphics Like my work? Click here to view my previous story.

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lalacliffthorne · 17 days ago

Text

🖤 the fake dating scheme 🖤

Azriel x Reader

part I part II

summary: trying to convince your best friend you're not hopelessly in love by pretending you are in a relationshop? bad idea. panicking and kissing the first male in sight? terrible idea.

notes: new series? check. fake dating trope? check. (if you can guess which book this idea is based on, you'll get a kiss and a cookie)

______________________________________________________________

“Please?" Mor pouts before raising her brows and beaming softly. “I swear to you, I could find you someone – like this.” She snaps her fingers, and I sigh, feeling my lips quirk a little even as I struggle not to roll my eyes.

“I don’t want - someone.” Picking up my glass, I frown when I realise that it's empty.

Damn it.

It's Saturday night, and Rita's is vibrating with the thrum of laughter and music. It's the kind that sends warm shivers down your spine, sucking you in when you listen for too long. Fae are dancing, their bodies weaving and winding, laughing and shimmering in the lights.

I haven't been keeping count, but according to Mor, I have not been out with her and the others for over three moons now. In my eyes, it's no reason for an intervention, but Mor thought otherwise and showed up at my apartment unannounced, forcing me to dress up before dragging me out of the door.

Apparently, not having a very important mission the next morning meant I either went willingly or she'd get Cassian to show up on my doorstep and get me.

The thought makes me huff a soft smile, and my eyes flicker over the crowd. I clock Cass over at the bar, flirting with one of the bartenders. Neither Rhys nor Feyre are anywhere to be seen, having disappeared to do the Cauldron knows what, and Azriel –

My heart leaps a little, and I can’t stop my eyes from searching for a tall, lean figure, wings shrouded by shadows and dark, tousled hair -

Blinking and pulling myself together, I quickly drag my gaze away from the crowd - only to find Mor’s already on me.

My heart plummets a little.

The Blonde watches me, and slowly, a gentle crease appears between her brows. For a moment, she seems to hesitate. Then she squints lightly and calls over the noise: “Is it because of him?”

I barely keep myself from wincing.

“You know, I am still trying not to be insulted that you've never told me who it is.” One corner of Mor’s lips twitches in a soft laugh, but her eyes flicker over mine, careful, hesitant, and a little worried.

My heart swells and tightens at the same time.

She is too good. Worried instead of upset that her best friend, who fights her way through brawls and delivers threats with a cheeky smile, has been hopelessly pining after the same male for the better part of a century and refuses to tell her who it is.

But I can’t tell her.

I haven’t told anyone.

Because saying it out loud means admitting to it.

Admitting that I fell, like a fool. Headfirst. Crashed and burned for someone so entirely out of my league, it is almost ridiculous.

As long as I don't tell anyone, I can pretend that I haven't. That it's nothing but a silly infatuation that will eventually fade away.

I nearly grimace.

Hopefully.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I crunch my brows. "Don't worry, that - is all over."

Mor’s eyes flicker over my face, and she looks so obviously not convinced that something tightens in my chest.

“Really. It’s – I’m fine, I'm alright, I’m -”, the more I talk, the deeper the worried crease between Mor’s brows grows, and I feel my breath hitch.

And before I can stop myself, before I can think; just because I simply can't stand the way Mor is staring at me, like it causes her chest to ache knowing I'm in love with someone so hopelessly that I won't even tell her who it is - I blurt out the first thing appearing in my head capable of making that look disappear.

“I’m seeing someone.”

My heart leaps high, and I barely keep my eyes from widening.

Bollocks.

For a moment, Mor and I simply stare at each other, seemingly both in a comical way of neither us quite believing what has just come out of my mouth - though the reasons for that are very different. Then Mor blinks, and the corners of her lips slowly curve upwards into a giddy smile.

“What?”

“I,” I try to stop my eyes from growing even wider, “yes. I mean, it’s - casual, not serious, but -”

I blink again and swallow.

Mor begins to beam brightly.

I want to disappear under the table.

“Oh my Gods; is he here?”Her gaze darts towards the crowd like somehow, she can make out the nonexistent someone in the sea of Fae.

I barely keep myself from wincing.

“I – I don’t – I don’t actually know, but – I’m going to get myself another drink, do you want one –“ Pointing over my shoulder, I'm already sliding out of the booth, barely suppressing the urge to bolt like a deer and instead sending her what I hope is a cheeky smile instead of a terrified look.

Mor nods and beam, and I quickly turn around and feel my heart pang painfully against my ribs as i widen my eyes.

Oh Gods.

♡

My thoughts start racing as soon as I weave my way through the crowd.

What the hell was I thinking?

The little white lie that's meant to soothe Mor’s worries and keep her off my back is doomed to be very short lived, because – there is no one. I am not seeing anybody, because I – am awfully, stupidly in love with someone who is so incredibly out of my league it is almost funny.

I'm not quite sure when the spark has turned into something more. Something that makes my heart thrum at the smallest brush of rough calloused fingers.

I just know that for some cursed reason known only to the Mother herself, it was instant, the little hitch in my heart’s rhythm when Rhys introduced me to the male shrouded in shadows a little over a century ago.

My heart swells and tightens, and I inhale softly and sharply, trying to focus.

This is a disaster. What am I supposed to do now? Act like there is someone?

No, Mor would become suspicious quickly if I didn't actually have anyone to show for.

Make someone pretend with me?

I barely keep myself from snorting a giggle.

What a terrible idea. That would never work; I’ve read enough novels to know that something like that is bound to end in certain disaster.

My eyes flicker over the males scattered all over the wide room, one more exceptionally beautiful than the next, many looking at passing females in interest.

I slow, something churning in my chest as I crunch my nose and swallow.

On the other hand… I am at the one spot in the city where there are more males than I dare to count – given this circumstance, do I really have another choice?

I swallow slowly.

This is an awful idea.

A completely harebrained, ridiculous idea.

But even though I wreck my brain trying to come up with an alternative that is not telling Mor the truth – I can’t find one.

This is my only way out.

Unless I want to go and confess to Mor about my lie, inevitably leading to having to explain the why.

Yes, that is really not an option.

Which means – I have to pick someone. Randomly. And pray to the Mother and the Cauldron and anyone else who is willing to listen that that person won’t mind if I rope them into pretending to be my casual, not serious relationship for the night.

I feel my heart leap against my ribs.

This is by far the worst idea I’ve ever come up with.

Breathing out, I swallow before loosening my shoulders and starting to let my gaze quickly flicker over the crowd.

Alright.

How does one pick a pretend lover?

First step: Rule out those who are obviously taken. Then those which one's instincts mark as a clear No - either because they are staring at the passing females a little too intently, or because are very obviously not interested in females at all.

Which leaves me with quite a lot less options than I have expected.

I swallow harshly.

Gods, maybe there's somebody I vaguely know, who I can just walk up to and say Hello, I really need your help, I have been an idiot, please could you help me so my best friend stops looking at me like I’m causing her the greatest heartbreak in all of history -

My eyes flicker over a male in the crowd, and my heart skips softly, my thoughts stilling.

Because even though I’ve just caught a glimpse at him, looming in the shadows, hair dark and shoulders broad, towering over the crowd - it's enough to realise he seems familiar.

My heart leaps into my throat, and before I can think about it, stop myself with any rational thought, I start pushing forward.

Something begins to thrum against my ribs, stronger and harder with every quick step.

With dignity. Act like this is natural. Maybe hug him and hope he gets the point and plays along; do not loose your composure, do not do or say anything stupid or irrational or -

I catch a glimpse at blonde hair and red lips from the corner of my eye, and my heart jumps into my throat.

And before I can think, before I can hold myself back, my hand darts out to grab the male’s arm and tug him around – and again, the words simply tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“I’m really, really sorry, but I need to kiss you,”, I whisper quickly, my hands slipping up over broad shoulders, and before I can stop myself, I pull the male down and stretch to press my lips onto his.

My breath catches.

Oh.

The male's lips are soft and cool. He tastes like ale and honey and something else, something that makes my fingers curl into his shoulders and my body shudder -

Hands, big and rough, close around my sides, just below my ribs, and my heart plummets as I ready myself to be pushed away.

But instead, they tighten. I can feel them flexing, their grip shifting. Then a low sound breaks from the male's throat, and he draws me closer, my chest pressing against his.

My breath hitches, and I slide my hands over his shoulders, bury my fingers in the soft hair at the back of his head, something swelling in my chest as I cling to him. He's tall, so tall he has to dip his head even though I am stretching to meet him. His body feels lean and steady and solid, easily holding up my weight -

Something cool brushes against my back; I suck in a soft breath, and a familiar scent rises into my nose.

My heart leaps painfully, and I still.

I know this scent.

My heart breath catches for another eason entirely, and I feel myself freeze.

Oh no.

Somehow, I manage to draw back, breaking the kiss, my heart pounding when I fall back onto my heels, forcing my eyes to open, my lips tingling and something rising into my throat -

Amber eyes clash with mine, and my eyes widen.

Oh. Shit.

Azriel's staring at me. Even in the dim lights, I can see how strangely hazy his eyes look, slightly unfocused as he blinks slowly. His cheeks seem almost a little flushed, and his lips are standing slightly agape as his throat moves in an absentminded swallow. He's still so close, his scent filling my lungs, his chest pressing against mine, his hands wrapped around my ribs -

The shadowsinger blinks again. Then he opens his mouth.

His impossibly deep voice brushes down my spine like a feather light touch, hoarse and strangely disoriented.

“Did you just kiss me?”

Staring up at him with wide eyes, I try to keep my breathing even, try to fight the rising panic in my chest.

“No…?”

Azriel’s grip shifts. I can see the moment the strange haze in his eyes begins to dissolve. His gaze becomes clearer as it pierces my face, and the muscles in his cheeks shift as I watch the traces of his usual scowl starting to form, the deep crease between his brows and the set in his jaw as shadows rise beyond his wings. His fingers dig into my ribs, and my heart rises into my throat.

Shit, shit, shit -

Quickly, before Azriel can commit murder in a public space or I can do another stupid thing, I slide my hand into his and slip past him, pushing into the crowd and pulling him with me.

If I'm lucky, Mor is watching and thinks we’re going somewhere private.

Which we are.

Only for very a different reason than what she might assume.

Azriel's long, calloused fingers tighten around mine, and I feel my heart swell and plummet at the same time.

Cauldron, he's going to kill me.

♡

Azriel lets me drag him with me until we reach a bench at the Sidra. Since he could just plant his feet and I would not be able to move him even if I threw my whole weight against him, I take it as a tentative sign that he isn’t too mad.

Or maybe he's simply still in shock and he's going to rip me to shreds the second he's recovered.

The river reflects the golden lights of the city and the galaxies high above, the crisp air clearing my head just far enough that when I slow down and turn around to face the shadowsinger, I feel the urge to just sink into the ground in mortification. Or drown myself in the Sidra. Or –

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, feeling my heart leap against my chest. “I am so sorry, I –“ My voice dies.

I have forgotten how tall he is. How much he towers over me, how small he can make me feel by simply dipping his head to look down at me, wings looming, shoulders shrouded in darkness.

His eyes are stormy as they pierce mine, dark and unreadable.

I realise I'm still holding his hand.

Quickly, I slip my fingers out of his, trying to ignore the way the cool air brushes against my skin where seconds before, his rough palm pressed against mine.

Azriel's fingers twitch, then they curl against his palm.

He's probably having to keep himself from strangling me now instead of after my explanation.

I swallow. Then I slowly step back and sink down onto the bench, rubbing my palms over my face.

Gods, this is a nightmare.

"I'm so sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. It was so stupid." I raise my head to look at him, and my heart leaps against my ribs in soft panic. "I didn't mean to, I swear, I just - panicked."

Azriel is still watching me, brows drawing together like a scowl is threatening to form on his face, eyes firmly locked onto mine, and I feel my breath hitch and blink. The pressure around my throat tightens, something in my chest squeezes painfully, and for the third time this night, simply driven by panic I blurt out without thinking: "Mor is onto me about me liking somebody."

Azriel stares at me. His shadows pull inward. A muscle in his jaw shifts, and I shrink a little.

Crap.

Quickly, I start talking.

"I know, that's - a ridiculous reason. But she knows, she knows that I've stupidly, ridiculously fallen, and she's worried, because I have never told her who it is, but I can't," I widen my eyes and raise my shoulders, "but she was trying to convince me to let her set me up, and when I wasn't responding the way she thought I would, she figured that it's because I am still hung up on that person, and while that's stupidly true, I also just really don't want her to set me up, I cannot handle that pressure, but she looked so heartbroken and I couldn't stand it, so I blurted out without thinking that I am seeing somebody, that I'm over -" My eyes meet amber ones, and my voice dies.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I blink, swallowing and mumbling: "Him."

Azriel's eyes pierce mine, deep, dark, unreadable.

I blink, raising my brows. "But I'm not. I mean, I'm not - seeing anybody, but I needed to convince her that I am, to make her stop looking at me like that." I feel my chest tighten as I raise my shoulders in a helpless shrug. "So I figured I would have to find somebody to help me pretend. And I thought I would pick someone I knew, because they were more likely to play along, but I couldn't find anyone." I blink. "Well, until I saw you." Quickly, I raise my brows. "Except I didn't even realise it was you, because it was dark and full and I was panicking, which is why I didn't just ask you like a sane person would do, but instead just -" Again, my voice dies, and I feel my shoulders sink in desperation when I mumble sheepishly: "Kissed you."

Azriel's jaw shifts, and his stormy eyes flicker over my face.

"I'm so sorry." I exhale and close my eyes, wincing. "I-I'll make it right. I swear. I'll explain to Mor what happened, that there's nothing going on between us, that it was just a stupid mistake." I swallow, rubbing my forehead.

For a moment, there's silence. The Sidra gently laps at the walls of the river bank, the soft waves of the river the only sound in the night. Then Azriel's low voice brushes over my skin, slow and calm.

"Or you don't."

I blink. Then I raise my head.

"What?"

Azriel watches me as he slowly crosses his arms, leaning back against the stone balustrade. His eyes are steady and unreadable. "You could let her believe that what she saw is true." His deep voice is low, rasping over my skin. "Make everyone believe it is."

Something swells in my chest until it feels a little hard to breathe.

With parted lips, I stare at Azriel.

"Why would you do that?" My voice is soft.

Azriel's eyes pierce mine. Then he blinks. "Cass and Rhys have been on me lately. About putting myself out there."

He looks so offended by the sentiment, a soft giggle bursts from my throat before I can stop it.

"Pretending this is real wouldn't just calm Mor, it would also get them off my back - at least for a good while until they have found some other project." Azriel's gaze flickers over mine, steady, calm.

Something starts thrumming against my ribs.

Azriel watches me, shadows curling around his shoulders. "You can say no."

My heart leaps against my ribs.

"No,", I blurt out hastily. Then I blink and hastily add: "I - I mean, yes. Not no. Yes, to that, not no -"

Azriel calls my name, and his deep voice makes me fall quiet with a sheepish wince.

For a second, I'm almost sure I can see the corner of his lips curve. His eyes flicker over my face. Then he lightly raises a brow.

I stare at him, my heart pounding against my ribs.

This is a terrible idea.

A hugely terrible idea.

Cause it's not just pretending to be in a relationship - it's pretending to be with the very male who is the reason I'm in this position in the first place. The one who manages to make my breath hitch with a glance, and my heart leap into my throat with nothing but the ghost of a touch.

It's a sure recipe for disaster, heartbreak and misery.

On the other hand…

What have you got to lose?, a quiet voice in my mind whispers. You've been in love with him for a century. It's not like you can end up having even more feelings for him. Maybe pretending to be with him is finally going to make you understand that it's never going to work. Maybe he's terrible to be with!

I almost huff.

Sure.

My heart squeezes gently.

But maybe this is exactly what I need to finally wake up and get over him.

I exhale and swallow. Then I raise my head. My eyes meet Azriel's, deep and dark and unreadable, and something flutters softly against my ribs.

Breathing out, I nod once. "Let's do it."

part I part II

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secretlyhers

@icey--stars @ailyr92 @xadenswhore

@azriels-mate2

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel fic #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acowar #acomaf #az imagine #az x reader #az fic #azriel x female!reader #azriel x f!reader #az/reader #azriel/reader #lalacliffthorne

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gilbertscurls · 10 months ago

Text

All Mine ➵ Matt Sturniolo

warnings: SMUT, softdom!matt, teasing, unprotected p in v

Matt sat in his chair, his mind already starting to wander after hours of going over endless spreadsheets, graphs, and data reports. He tried his best to pay attention, but the numbers and statistics were blurring together, and his focus kept shifting to the conversation going on between his brothers and Laura.

He zoned back in as Chris said something about their video views dropping. He glanced at his other brothers, noticing their tired and frustrated expressions. He couldn't blame them, this meeting was feeling like it'd never end.

He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. He couldn't help but yawn, his lack of sleep from the night before catching up to him. He glanced over at the clock on the wall, silently willing the time to move faster.

Matt felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and reached in, discreetly pulling it out to check the notification. He saw that it was a text, and his heart immediately skipped a beat.

You: hey, what are you doing?

He couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement when he saw your text. He quickly typed out a reply, trying to keep a straight face while still being in the meeting.

Matt: hey sweetheart, we're in a meeting right now. bored out of my mind. wbu?

In response, he received a picture. It was you dressed in dark blue lacy lingerie. You were smirking, and the added text said, “Thoughts and opinions?”

Matt's breath hitched in his throat as he looked at the picture, a wave of desire immediately washing over him. He swallowed hard, trying to discreetly position his phone so that his brothers and Laura, who were sitting nearby, wouldn't notice. His mind quickly went straight to all the dirty thoughts and opinions he had about you at that moment. But he knew he needed to keep his cool and focus on the meeting.

He typed out a quick reply.

Matt: i think we need to finish this meeting ASAP.

He sent the message, already impatient and eager to finish up. His body was reacting in all sorts of ways now, his mind filled with thoughts of how gorgeous you looked… And what you could do once this meeting was over.

“And let's move on to the pressing issue of…” Laura babbled on, but he didn't really listen anymore.

He tried his best to pay attention to what Laura was saying, but his mind was preoccupied with the picture he had just received. He couldn't stop thinking about you and how badly he wanted you right now. He shifted in his seat again, trying to discreetly adjust himself and hoping no one would notice.

He continued to nod and give the occasional “yeah” or “uh-huh” whenever one of his brothers spoke, but his mind was completely elsewhere. He kept sneaking glances at his phone, desperate to see if you would send another text or naughty photo.

He could hear his brothers and Laura talking, but his thoughts were consumed with you. He was starting to get impatient now, wanting to leave this meeting and go be with you. He glanced at the clock again, willing the time to move faster. He knew he wasn't going to be able to focus until this was over.

And eventually, another text came. This time, it was a close-up of your tits, still clad in that lacy little bra that didn't leave much to the imagination.

He nearly choked on his own spit as he looked at the new picture, quickly glancing around to make sure no one had noticed his reaction. He felt a wave of desire wash over him, his heart racing at the sight of your body.

His phone was positioned at an angle where no one could see it, but he was still being careful as he typed out a reply.

Matt: holy hell sweetheart…

He quickly sent it before looking back up at his brothers and Laura, trying to act normal.

He could feel the heat building up inside him, and he knew he was going to struggle to keep himself together if you sent any more pictures. He shifted in his chair again, trying to relieve some of the tension in his body. He glanced at the clock again, but the minutes seemed to be passing by slower and slower.

You: i miss you :(

Matt felt a pang of longing in his chest as he read your text. He missed you too, so much. He wanted nothing more than to be with you right now, to hold you close and make love to you.

Matt: i miss you too… this meeting feels like it's never going to end. i just want to be with you.

He glanced up again, checking to see if his brothers or the manager were looking his way. They were still busy going over the spreadsheets, and he took the opportunity to discreetly sneak another glance at his phone.

The sight of the picture was still fresh in his mind, and it was making him restless. He couldn't take this any longer. He needed this meeting to end, or else he was going to go crazy. He shifted in his chair again, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was no use. He was too worked up now, too consumed with thoughts of you.

You: i need you so bad

As he read your message, his heart raced and his body responded instantly. Your words were like gasoline on a fire. His thoughts went wild, imagining all the things he wanted to do to you, how badly he needed to be with you right now. He had to force himself to look up from his phone, his eyes darting around to check if anyone was looking his way.

Matt: i need you too sweetheart. so, so badly.

His body was alive with desire, his mind filled with images of you. He was on the edge, so close to just getting up and walking out of the meeting. But he knew he couldn't do that. He had to stay, even though every fiber of his being was screaming to be with you.

“What do you think, Matt?” Laura asked suddenly.

Matt's heart skipped a beat as he heard his name being called. He quickly looked up, trying to compose himself and act normal. He had no idea what Laura had asked him, his mind hazy with thoughts of you.

"Um… Sorry, could you repeat that?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

He could feel his brothers' eyes on him, and he knew they could tell something was on his mind. He tried to focus on Laura, but it was getting harder and harder. He hoped she wouldn't ask him anything else, or he might just lose it right here.

He tried to listen as Laura repeated her previous statement, but he was only half paying attention. His mind was still fixated on you and the pictures you had sent him. He couldn't shake the desire and need coursing through his veins. He felt like he was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode any second now.

He couldn't help but keep glancing at his phone, hoping for another message from you. The anticipation was killing him. He longed for your words, your pictures, anything that might alleviate this desperate need he was feeling.

You: when r u coming back?

He quickly read your message, his heart skipping a beat again. He was desperate to be with you, and the thought of having to sit through the rest of this meeting was torture.

He typed out a reply, his fingers trembling slightly.

Matt: asap. this meeting is taking FOREVER. i need to be with you now.

He felt like he was on the edge of a physical breakdown, his body was aching with the need for release and the need to be with you. He couldn't keep his mind focused on the meeting for even a second, his thoughts consumed by the images and the memory of your body. He just wanted this all to be over so he could go to you.

You: i might need to start without you ;)

As he read your message, his eyes went wide and he felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. The thought of you touching yourself without him was both maddening and arousing, and it only intensified his need to be with you.

He quickly typed out a response, his hands shaking slightly.

Matt: baby please don't… i can't take this much longer

He shifted in his seat again, trying to find some sort of relief but only finding more discomfort. His body was aching for release, for your touch. He glanced up again, checking to see if anyone was looking his way. No one seemed to have noticed anything, but he knew he was close to snapping.

His mind was a constant battle between the need to be professional and stay in this meeting, and the need to go to you right now. He tried to focus on the words being spoken around him, but all he could think about was you. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this worked up.

The meeting dragged on and on, and it seemed to be endless. He couldn't tell if time was actually slowing down, or if it was just his perception, fueled by the need for you. He kept sneaking glances at his phone, hoping for another message from you, something to help him through this. His body was on fire, every inch of him aching for your touch.

“I know you guys are tired, but there is one more, long matter…” Laura kept talking.

Matt felt a pang of frustration as he heard Laura's words. Another long matter? He couldn't take it anymore. He was so close to the breaking point, and now he had to sit through another long discussion.

He tried to keep his composure, but it was getting harder and harder. His thoughts were consumed by you, by the burning need to be with you. He couldn't stand another minute of this.

He was starting to feel a hint of irritation mixed with the desire. He tried to pay attention to what Laura was saying, but his mind kept drifting back to Victoria. He wondered what you were doing, if you had stayed true to your word and started without him. The thought alone was enough to make his body twitch in response.

He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was useless. He was so pent up now that he was struggling to think clearly. The only word that kept repeating in his mind was “now”. He needed you, now and immediately. The thought of waiting any longer was almost physically painful.

“Hey, you good, man?” Chris asked quietly, leaning a little closer to him.

Matt jerked his head up, suddenly aware that he had been zoned out for a moment. He looked at Chris and quickly plastered on a smile.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm good. Just tired, you know.”

He tried to sound casual, but he knew Chris could read him well. He wouldn't be fooled by a simple fake smile.

He shifted in his chair, hoping to subtly adjust his crotch which was now visibly tenting against his pants. He avoided Chris's gaze, knowing that if he looked into his eyes, his brother would know something was going on.

He tried to focus on the meeting again, but his mind was in a loop between the need for you and the need to pretend everything was normal. He knew he was treading on thin ice, and all it would take was one more message or picture from you to completely send him over the edge.

And as if on cue, you sent him a short video. It showcased your body, still clad in lingerie, and your hand was trailing down your skin.

As the video played, Matt's body reacted with intense need. He had to bite down on his lip to keep from moaning. He was sitting at the table, surrounded by people, and he had to act like nothing was wrong. He felt like he was going to explode any second now.

He kept his face neutral, trying to look disinterested. But inside, he was going crazy. He wanted to get up and go to you right that minute, not caring about the meeting or anything else. He watched the video again, drinking you in, his mind replaying your words, your touch, your scent. He was so lost in the moment that when you sent him another text, he almost dropped his phone.

His heart raced as he saw the notification. He quickly picked up his phone, careful not to show the screen to anyone else. He opened the message and read your words.

You: i can’t take it anymore baby, i need you.

Matt's body responded instantly to your message. His need for you grew even stronger, and he had to fight the urge to just get up and go to you.

He quickly typed out a message, his fingers shaking slightly.

Matt: i need you too. so badly. you're driving me crazy.

He sent the message and waited for your response, his body thrumming with need and desire.

Vee: fucking laura

He read your message and couldn't help but let out a small huff of laughter. He knew how frustrated you were because he was equally frustrated. But the fact that you were thinking about Laura right now… It was both funny and incredibly arousing.

He quickly responded, his thumbs flying over the keypad.

Matt: i know baby. i feel the same. she is taking forever. i want to leave and be with you.

He tried to keep his focus on the meeting, but it was getting more and more difficult with every message from you. He was on the verge of losing his mind, his body on fire with need for you. He wanted to go to you, to touch you, to taste you, to make you scream his name.

The meeting was entering its second hour, and Matt wasn't sure how much longer he could take this. He could feel his composure slipping, his need for you growing more intense with each passing minute.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the meeting adjourned and everyone was getting up to leave. Matt quickly packed up his things, eager to get out of there as soon as possible. He glanced at his phone, checking for any messages from you, and thankfully, there was none. You seemed to have enough self-control to not send him anything more while the others were still in the room.

Matt took a deep breath and tried to compose himself as his brothers approached. He was still feeling frustrated and pent-up, but he couldn't show it. He forced a casual smile.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

He led the way out of the room and towards the parking lot, his steps brisk and purposeful. He had to get out of here and to you as soon as possible. The need for you was like a physical ache inside of him, demanding immediate attention. Every step further away from you made the ache worse.

He tried to make small talk with his brothers, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't focus on anything but the thought of you, of the way you would feel in his arms, the way your body would press against his, the way you would gasp and moan his name.

They reached the car and Matt quickly got into the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. He kept his eyes on the road, but his mind was still racing with thoughts of you. It was taking all his self-control not to speed, knowing that the faster he got to you, the better.

His brothers chatted amongst each other, but Matt was only half listening. All he could think about was the images he had received earlier, the sound of your voice, the need he felt for you. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, praying that he would get to you before he completely lost his mind.

The drive felt like it was going on for an eternity. Matt's knuckles were white from the tight hold he had on the steering wheel, and his jaw was clenched shut tightly. He tried to focus on the road, but his mind kept wandering back to you, to the things he would do to you when he finally got there.

He was aware that his brothers were talking, but he couldn't make out the words. The only thing he was aware of was the aching need in his body, the need to be with you, to feel you, to make you his. He had never felt this level of desperation before, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

He finally pulled the car onto their street, and relief washed over him, mixed with the intense need. He parked in the driveway and turned off the engine, then turned to his brothers, who were gathering their things to get out of the car.

“I'll see you guys later,” he said quickly, trying to sound casual.

His brothers nodded, not noticing the edge in his voice, the urgency in his movements. Matt quickly got out of the car and made a beeline for his front door.

He fumbled with the keys for a moment, his hands shaking with excitement and anticipation. Finally, he got the door open and rushed inside, shutting it behind him. The house was quiet, and he knew you were waiting for him somewhere, probably in their bedroom.

As he walked towards the hallway to the bedroom, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He was so close to getting what he needed, what he had been craving for hours. When he reached the door, he didn’t even bother to knock. He turned the handle and pushed the door open.

You were already laying on the bed, a teasing smirk on your face, and you were wearing that same damn lingerie.

As soon as you came into view, Matt’s breath caught in his chest. Seeing you there, waiting for him, wearing that lace and silk, was enough to drive him over the edge. He closed the door behind him and locked it, making sure they wouldn’t be interrupted this time.

“Hi there,” you greeted him teasingly.

He couldn't find words to respond to you, he was too overwhelmed by your appearance and his own need. He simply continued towards you, his gaze fixated on your body. When he got to the bed, he reached out and touched you, his hands gently tracing over the lace of the lingerie.

His touch was gentle, but the fire inside him was anything but. He ran his hands up your sides, feeling your soft skin under his fingers. He was so close to losing control, but he forced himself to maintain some semblance of restraint.

“You like the new set?”

His eyes raked over your body, taking in every inch of you, every curve, every dip. He could feel his control slipping, but he managed a strangled reply.

“You're killing me.”

He moved to lie down beside you, pulling you close to him. He couldn't resist touching you, his hands roaming over your skin, taking in the feel of you under his touch. You were warm and soft, and you fit against his body perfectly.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging at it to bring him closer. He allowed you to pull him down, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. As soon as your mouths met, all his restraint went out the window. He kissed you deeply, hungrily, his body pressing against yours. One of his hands found the bare skin of your thigh, and his fingers traced small circles on your flesh.

His other hand tangled in your hair, holding you closer to him, his tongue exploring your mouth. He was drowning in your kiss, in the way your body felt against his, in the way your scent drove him wild. His free hand started to wander over your body, tracing the lines of your curves, his fingers teasing the edge of the lace fabric.

He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. He could feel you shiver under his touch, and it only fueled his need. His mouth traveled lower, down your collarbone to the valley between your breasts.

“God, I need you so bad,” you whispered breathlessly.

He moved his mouth from your chest to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. He placed a small kiss on your earlobe before whispering back.

“You have no idea how much I need you right now.”

His hand on your thigh slid upwards, under the hem of the lingerie. His fingertips grazed the edge of your underwear, and he could feel your body respond eagerly to his touch.

He continued to kiss and nibble at your neck and earlobe as his hand moved further up your thigh, his touch growing more possessive. He was losing himself in the feel of you, in the way you responded to him.

“I need more,” he whispered against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

He gently pushed you onto your back, positioning himself between your legs. His hands ran up your arms and pinned your wrists to the bed, his body pressing against yours. He lowered his mouth to your ear again and spoke in a low, rough voice.

“I need to feel you. All of you. Now.”

“I'm all yours,” you whispered.

Those words sent a wave of heat through his body, and he let out a low growl of satisfaction. His hands released your wrists and began to explore your body again, this time with more urgency. He slid them under the fabric of the lingerie, slowly peeling it off your body.

As more of your skin was exposed, his lips started to follow. He kissed and nipped at your chest, your stomach, your thighs. He was like a man possessed, driven by a primal need to claim you completely. His hands continued to wander, exploring every inch of your body as he made his way back up to your face.

When he got there, he looked into your eyes with raw hunger. He had almost completely lost control now, his body on fire with desire.

When he felt your hands on his skin, his body reacted instantly. He lifted his arms so you could pull the shirt off from over his head and toss it aside.

As soon as his chest was bare, your hands were back on him, running over his skin and igniting a fire in his veins. He kissed you again, his mouth hot and demanding against yours, his body pressing your back into the bed.

His hands roamed your body, exploring every contour, every curve. He was drunk with the feel of you, the way you responded to him, the way your breath hitched and your moan echoed in his ears. His lips moved back down your neck to your shoulder, his teeth lightly biting at your skin. He needed you closer, needed to feel all of you, to possess you completely.

His hands slid under your body, cupping your backside and pulling you up against him. He could feel your bare skin against his, the heat of your body driving him wild. His mouth found yours again, his tongue demanding as it invaded you. He was consumed by you, lost in the feel and taste of you. He wanted more, so much more.

His hands moved up your back, tracing your spine. He could feel the heat in your body, the way you arched against him, craving his touch just as desperately as he craved you. He started to lower his body in between your legs, positioning himself against you.

“I can't wait any longer,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I need to be inside you, now.”

You had to surpass a moan. “Please…”

Your plea only heightened his need, and he couldn't hold back any longer. He reached down, unzipping his jeans and quickly pulling them off. He was fully exposed now, his body taut with anticipation. He positioned himself between your legs again, his eyes locking onto yours.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice ragged with desire. “And you're all mine.”

He paused for a moment, looking at you intently, taking in the sight of you lying there beneath him, your body waiting for him, completely open and vulnerable. It was a sight that always took his breath away, always filled him with an overwhelming sense of possessiveness.

He reached down, his hands moving to your hips, holding you firmly. He started to press into you slowly. He watched as your eyes fluttered shut, your head falling back against the bed. A gasp escaped from your lips, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

He started moving inside you, his body and yours finding a rhythmic dance that was both familiar and new at the same time. His hands were still on your hips, his grip strong and sure, as he began to move faster, deeper. His mouth found yours again, claiming you as he took you, owned you.

The sound of your moan was like fuel to the fire burning within him. He moved his lips to your neck and sucked on your skin, hard, leaving a mark that would be there the next day as a reminder of this moment.

“You're mine,” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “All mine. I'm never letting you go.”

He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust and the moan that escaped from his lips.

He needed to hear you, wanted to know that you were as lost in this as he was. He moved his lips back to your ear, his voice low and ragged.

“Tell me you're mine. Tell me you're mine, and nobody else's.”

“Yours,” you choked out in between the moans. “Only yours.”

Your words sent a wave of possessiveness through him, and he claimed your mouth in a rough and hungry kiss. He had you. Completely, utterly. You were his, and no one else's.

His body moved against your, finding a furious pace. He needed you, needed to claim you completely, to make you his in every possible way. His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of you, as if trying to memorize your very existence.

Every moan, every gasp, every breath that escaped your lips only served to drive him on. He needed to hear you, to know that he was giving you everything you wanted, everything you needed. And you were giving him the same, the sounds of your pleasure filling his ears and feeding the fire within him.

He moved his lips down your body, his teeth nipping at your skin. He wanted to leave his marks all over you, to brand you as his. He knew he was being rough, but he couldn't help it. The primal need to claim you was too strong.

“Fuck, Matt…” you moaned loudly, your hands finding themselves on his back.

The sound of his name on your lips, the feeling of your hands on his skin… It only fueled the fire inside him. He wanted to hear that moan again, to feel your body shaking under him, lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“You're so beautiful when you moan like that,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I love hearing you say my name like that.”

He continued to move inside you, his body moving against yours in a fevered rhythm. He could feel himself getting close, but he needed you to be there with him. He needed you to come undone completely, to completely let go.

“Matt, close, I… Please… Don't… Don't stop…”

He was getting closer, and your pleading words were like an accelerant to the flame. He moved his lips to your ear again, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

“I won't stop,” he assured you, his voice ragged with desire. “I'm gonna make you come, baby. And I'm gonna come with you. But I need you to let go, I need you to give me everything. Can you do that for me?”

He could feel your body tightening around him, and he knew you were close. He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate.

“Let go, baby,” he whispered in your ear, his voice a low growl. “I want to hear you, I want to feel you. Give it to me, give me everything.”

And with one last deep thrust, you came, his name on your lips, and your nails digging into the bare skin of his back.

The sound of his name and the feel of your nails on his skin, the way your body convulsing around him… It was all too much.

He didn't even have time to warn you before he followed you over the edge, his body shuddering violently as he found his own release. He buried his face in your neck, gasping for air and trying to catch his breath.

“Oh, god,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I love you.”

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice still unsteady.

He buried his face against your neck, inhaling deeply, the scent of your skin filling his senses. He was still breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. After a moment, he spoke again.

“You were so beautiful,” he said softly. “I've never seen you more beautiful than you were just now.”

He lifted his head to look at you, taking in your flushed face, your mussed hair, your breath still coming in short gasps. You were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen, and the fact that you were all his only made you even more perfect.

He gently pushed some loose strands of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin.

“You're mine, you know that?” he whispered. “You're completely mine. And I'm never letting you go.”

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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months ago

Text

Sound III

Steph Catley x Child!Reader

Summary: Your first day at school

"Go on," Steph says," Go and stand with Calvin and I'll take a picture."

You shift a little on your feet as you do as you're told.

Steph's been floating on air this whole morning.

She made you a special breakfast of pancakes and strawberries. She brushed your hair gently and helped your change into your new uniform.

You think she might end up crying too but that's only because your best friend told you that's what her mothers did when they were in the shop to buy her new uniform.

"You're so grown up now, angel," Steph says from behind her camera," I might cry."

You knew that would happen and you shuffle forward to hug her.

She's much bigger than you. She's always been bigger than you but that's okay because Steph says you've got a much bigger heart than her so you try to force all of your love into this hug for her.

"It's only a half day, alright?" She says, though it seems like she's trying to remind herself more than you," So I'll be picking you up right before lunch and we'll head back to training. I'm sure the others are all going to be so excited to hear about your day."

"Okay, Mummy."

"And..." Steph trails up, biting at her lip for a moment before kneeling down and drawing your closer. "There's going to be a lot of kids and they won't be like your friends at camp. They might not...understand that-"

"That I have to wear extra ears?"

"That you have to wear hearing aids, that's right. Do you remember your rules?"

You do.

Of course you do.

Steph made sure you memorised all of them during summer, insisting that they were important for your wellbeing.

"Don't let anyone touch my ears. No turning off my ears and remember that my new friends might not know how to sign so I have to use my voice."

Steph smiles. "Good girl. And make sure that if anyone teases you, you go straight to the teacher to let them know."

You nod. "I will, Mummy."

Steph doesn't end up crying at home though her eyes water slightly as she loads you up into the car.

She doesn't even cry when she leaves you in your new classroom with your new teacher and your new classmates.

She does cry in the car though.

In the car.

On the way to training.

At training.

She just can't seem to stop.

"She's so big now," Steph sobs into Beth's shoulder," So big. When did she get so big?"

"Still crying?" Kyra asks with a dismissive eye roll.

"Has been for the past half an hour," Alessia replies," Beth had to convince her not to pick y/n up early."

"Y/n's a great kid. I'm sure she's having the best time."

"Don't tell Steph that. It might be too much to cope with."

The hours tick by slowly or at least they do to Steph. For what feels like every half an hour, she looks up at the clock to find only five minutes have passed.

It's excruciatingly painful and it's clear to everyone that she's not really listening so it's no surprise that Steph is up and gone like a shot the minute her alarm goes off.

She's early to pick up, anxiously parked outside the school and tapping her steering wheel before your class comes out.

You're near the front like she told you to be, your pastel pink backpack practically dwarfing you in size as you come out.

"Hey, angel," Steph coos as you go running into her arms, burying your face into her neck," Hey. I missed you today."

"Missed you too, mummy," You reply, your voice small and quiet like it usually is," I kept my ears on. I didn't let people touch them. I spoke as I signed too."

"Good girl," Steph says, easily lifting you up into her arms," And was it good? School? Did you have fun?"

You look a little nervous but still nod. "I think so."

Steph doesn't want to pry too deep into that while still on school grounds but there's a horrible sinking feeling in her chest at your words.

They play on her mind as she drives back to training. They're at the very front of her thoughts as she watches you go off to play with Kyra, Vic and Alessia.

She almost wears the floor down with her pacing as your words circle her head without respite.

You were a little nervous to tell her. You weren't sure if you had fun at school.

You certainly look like you're having fun now though as Kyra grabs you from behind and swings you around in the air before Vic and Less pounce and tickle your tummy.

You shriek with laughter and Steph doesn't want to think about you not having this kind of fun at school too.

She doesn't want to think about it all but she can't help it, calling out to stop your play before she even realises what she's done.

"Hey," She says, taking your hands and sitting down on the grass with you," I wanted to talk to you. Can we talk?"

You're still smiling - that infectious smile you have that makes everyone smile with you. "We can talk, Mummy!"

"I wanted to talk about school."

Your bright smile drops immediately. "Oh."

Steph draws you closer until you're firmly sat on her lap and she can hold your properly.

"I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?"

"I can do that."

Steph takes a big breath before asking," Did you enjoy school? This is important."

You say something but it's a mumble and Steph has to strain to hear you.

"I enjoyed it. Had a lot of fun."

Steph frowns. "Then why did you say you weren't sure earlier."

You nibble at the inside of your cheek for a moment before you say," You looked sad this morning when you were getting me ready. I didn't want you to be more sad if it looked like I had more fun at school."

"Oh...Well..." Steph takes a moment to compose herself, to think through her muddle of thoughts. "You don't have to be scared to tell me these things, angel. I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me things. I just want you to be happy."

#woso x reader #steph catley x reader #steph catley #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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oikarma · 3 months ago

Text

how you get the girl | pt.2

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: what is up with your ex-situationship's timing?

a/n: time to lock in and actually work on this fic LOL.

part one / part two

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liked by lando and others

yourinstagram to new beginnings

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lilyzneimer will miss having you as a neighbor </3

yourinstagram oh but lily no distance could separate us yourinstagram i'll call you so often you'll get sick of me lilyzneimer you already do yourinstagram oh. so.

hattiepiastri what happened to "catch flights not feelings"

yourinstagram in the making of this post no feelings were caught hattiepiastri but you are catching a flight yourinstagram it's for my freaking job let me BREATHE

yourfriend chef ramsey

yourinstagram ❤️ come over and i'll let you try some, they're sooo good

lando missing you in shanghai

yourinstagram you called me hours minutes ago lando wish you'd come visit yourinstagram what, are we in an established relationship? hattiepiastri OOOH CLOCKED!!

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liked by lilyzneimer and others

yourinstagram home is where the heart is

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yourfriend so much fun with you!

yourinstagram can't believe we live so close now

hattiepiastri but i'm literally in aus.

yourinstagram didn't say where my home was, read the caption again hattiepiastri sorry queen ☹️

lando but that's not where mine is?

yourinstagram lando have you been listening to ts recently lando maybe yourinstagram didn't peg you for a lover boy @/oscarpiastri come here lilyzneimer don't make fun of his music taste yourinstagram who, oscar's? don't you worry, i was just sharing information so oscar could bully lando oscarpiastri Thanks, mate. yourinstagram good lad! lando ...

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deuxmoi Well, what do we think?

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user1 cheating already? gah. men.

user2 well maybe kylie's had a change of mind we never know. might be an inside joke or something

user3 she VEHEMENTLY hates green user4 wow fancy vocab user2 i'm just saying, maybe there's another meaning.

user5 are we sure its timothee

user6 ma'am this is a wendy's

user7 where even was he

user8 he posted his poker night at chateau marmont then dipped so no idea user9 on his story he posted a pic at an airport so prob not in LA anymore

user10 what was that girl he was hooking up with called again? swore i heard her talking in one of her tiktoks how she loved green

user11 that's crazy user12 delulu 101 user13 think her name was y/n or something just google it

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close friends only

liked by others

yourinstagram me rn

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lilyzneimer ...what now

yourinstagram TURN OFF DND AND RESPOND TO ME

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tiktok

@/chalametss timothee and kylie spotted at a concert

user1 guess it was an inside joke after all

user2 what user3 there was a rumor going around that he was buying stuff in her least favorite color user4 what even are these theories

user5 mom i don't like what i'm seeing

yourtiktok @/lilyztiktok bro this comment has been deleted

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liked by mclaren and others

lando Shanghai P4. Not the best pace today. We got off to a bad start but made what we could. Good job, Oscar.

user1 ohhh the first pic

user2 ovaries just exploded

user3 lando norizz who? he looks at me like that and i drop dead

user4 You got it mate

oscarpiastri Thanks Lando!

user5 mclaren's 2025 wdc + wcc

yourinstagram congrats! wish i could've been there

lando come to suzuka? user6 @/maguiwhateverheruseris keep an eye on your man user7 she's actually really pretty...why y'all hating? user8 no one's hating?? yourinstagram i'll see

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liked by others

yourinstagram insert motivating gym quote

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hattiepiastri oooh SPICY

yourinstagram 💓💋

lilyzneimer i approve of p3 wholeheartedly

yourinstagram almost forgot i had him blocked for a moment and worried that he'd see it lilyzneimer what are you worrying about?? you don't owe him anything

lando coming?

lando to suzuka? yourinstagram why'd you phrase it like that lando 😉 oscarpiastri Can you guys not. yourinstagram pop off oscar, tell him off lando 😔

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a/n: got kinda messy...

#lando norris x reader #formula one x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 smau #lando norris #timothée chalamet #timothee x you #oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩

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justabigassnerd · 11 months ago

Text

A Different Man

Pairing - Tim Bradford x reader

Word count - 5,241

Warnings - inaccurate hospital scenes, mentions of needles, drugs, medicines, angst, fluff

Summary - after an incident with Lucy, Tim wonders if it's time to be honest about his marital status

A/N - hey y'all I'm back with another anon request which I hope I did justice! we all know I love writing for my pookie Tim so I had a blast writing this. I won't ramble but as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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If it was up to Tim, he wouldn’t be at work right now. But the Vice President chose to visit Los Angeles meaning he had to go to work when he would rather be relaxing at home. Now, Tim was patrolling LA with his rookie Lucy Chen, keeping a careful eye on their surroundings as they drove around. Eventually, the duo are directed to a homeless encampment where Tim makes an announcement that all the people living there have to pack up and move so that the stretch of road they were living on was going to be used for the visit. As they all packed up their belongings, a fight broke out between two women and Lucy was quick to step in yet her best efforts still got her caught up in the tussle, when the women dragged each other, and Lucy, to the ground, Tim was quick to step in, handcuffing one woman while Lucy got up and handcuffed the other. As Lucy got to her feet, Tim glanced over at her, stopping when he noticed something.

“Chen. Stop. Don’t move.” He instructs, watching as she looks at him confused before following his gaze down to the used needle sticking out of her thigh. At that moment, it was like Lucy could focus on nothing but the needle and all the diseases it could bring if it had actually embedded in her leg. Noticing Lucy’s distant gaze, Tim instructs other officers to take both women away so he can focus on making sure Lucy is okay and gets taken to the hospital.

“I didn’t see it,” Lucy mutters, looking up at Tim with a terrified expression.

“I have to pull the needle out. Stay still.” Tim says, feeling bad upon seeing the expression on his rookie’s face but he knew he couldn’t show any signs of worry because that would only panic her further. Tim pulls on a pair of gloves and grabs a box to put the needle in and he crouches down alongside Lucy, carefully extracting the needle from her leg and trying not to react when he sees the small traces of blood on the tip of the needle from where it had clearly made contact with her leg.

“What’s the protocol for when an officer is exposed on duty?” Tim then asks, straightening up after putting the needle away. He already had a good idea of how worried and panicked Lucy was and he needed to keep her focused on her job to stop her from spiralling. When he clocked that Lucy wasn’t focused he calmly gained her attention and got her to tell him what it was they needed to take as next steps. Lucy wasn’t used to Tim being so calm and gentle towards her but she appreciated it nonetheless.

“Where’s the nearest hospital?” Tim asks after Lucy tells him what protocol is for an incident like this.

“Shaw Memorial,” Lucy replies, getting a nod in return from Tim before he turns to another officer, making sure they know to keep an officer posted in the area while he takes Lucy to the hospital. Tim drives Lucy to the hospital and when he’s parked the shop, he escorts her to the first nurse desk he can find, letting her approach the desk herself.

“I need to get my blood tested. I got stuck with a used hypodermic needle.” Lucy says, trying to keep her voice steady as the nurse begins to look around, apologising before he grabs a clipboard, holding out to her.

“Just fill this out for us and take a seat in the waiting room. A doctor will be with you shortly.” Gino says with a friendly smile.

“You must be new. She’s got a weapon, so what if someone tried to grab her weapon? The hospital protocol dictates that an armed officer be seen immediately. So set her up in a room right now and find a doctor.” Tim says, an authoritative tone to his voice as Gino straightens up, nodding nervously before leading Lucy and Tim to a private room so she can safely fill out her information and wait for a doctor while he goes to grab one. Gino heads straight to your office, knocking on the door and entering with permission.

“Gino, what can I do for you?” You ask with a sweet smile, removing your gaze from your computer to Gino.

“Doctor Bradford, there’s a police officer who’s been stabbed with a used needle and needs bloodwork done,” Gino explains, watching as you nod, shutting off your computer and getting up from your seat.

“I’ll go and get acquainted with my patient if you could get the equipment I need. And Gino? Please call me y/n, Doctor Bradford is too formal.” You say with a slight chuckle as you follow Gino to the door of your office.

“Sorry.” Gino apologises as you both step into the hallway.

“No harm done.” You say dismissively, waving your hand loosely, turning in the direction of the room Gino tells you your patient is in.

“Oh just a heads up, the police officer's partner is a really grumpy guy,” Gino warns, and at the warning, you had a feeling you knew who was going to be in that room.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Bradford.” You introduce yourself as you walk into the room, smiling sweetly at the woman sitting on the end of a bed, not missing how her eyes flicked between you and your husband who was standing across the room, his arms across his chest.

“B-Bradford?” Lucy asks, eyes widening slightly as Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes at Lucy’s miraculous mood switch.

“Yes. Tim’s my husband.” You say with a soft laugh as you pick up the completed form from alongside Lucy, eyes scanning it and inputting the information into a file for Lucy.

“Sorry, that was so rude of me. I’m Lucy Chen. I’m Officer Bradford’s rookie and I just didn’t know he was-”

“Chen,” Tim said simply, making Lucy stop talking, apologising as she relaxed slightly.

“Don’t apologise Lucy. In fact, excuse me one second.” You say, walking over to Tim, taking his hand, leading him to the corner and glaring at him.

“What?” Tim asks, looking at you, confused.

“Do you seriously talk to everyone like that? Even the rookie’s you’re teaching?” You scold, watching as Tim sighs lightly.

“I gotta be tough. That’s my way of teaching. It’s how I learnt in the Army and how I learnt when I joined the force.” Tim says, explaining himself.

“I get that Tim but in the hospital? The poor girl is probably terrified and thinking of all the worst-case scenarios possible. Just tone it down a little.” You ask, eyes flicking over to Lucy who was wringing her hands nervously, eyes flicking all over the room as she takes deep breaths. At your words, Tim lets out a soft sigh, nodding lightly.

“Okay. I’ll tone it down for now.” He agrees quietly, getting a nod in response from you and a soft squeeze of the hand before you drop it focusing back on Lucy just as Gino enters the room with all the stuff you need to draw blood.

“Thank you, Gino.” You chirp happily, taking the tray from him and beginning to prep yourself.

“You can go back out to the desk, I’ll page you when I need you to run this down to the labs.” You then say, glancing over your shoulder to smile at Gino who nods and exits the room.

“He’s new, isn’t he? He didn’t know the rules about what to do when an armed officer needs to see a doctor.” Tim says, sidling up alongside you as you pull on gloves, sitting on a stool in front of Lucy and rolling your eyes.

“Yes, he’s new. I take it you were the one who made sure he knew the protocol?” You say glancing over your shoulder at Tim before focusing back on the needle as you prep it.

“I think he would’ve found a room for me if Gino hadn’t corrected himself,” Lucy says with a soft laugh.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Tim’s always been one to find his own solutions to things.” You say, smiling fondly at the many memories you have of Tim fixing situations himself when he wasn’t satisfied with the options he had.

“You must have some great stories about Tim,” Lucy asks, making your eyebrow rise as you catch on to what she was hinting at.

“What kind of story would you like? I’ve got some good ones from when we first started dating.” You say, making sure the needle is in Lucy’s arm and drawing blood.

“Hey, no.” Tim attempts to cut in and you just hold a hand up, silencing him quickly which makes Lucy giggle at how quickly her training officer was silenced. At first, Tim pulled a slight face behind your back when you held your hand up, but when you looked over your shoulder and blew him a little kiss, Lucy saw how quickly Tim melted at the gesture. Even if he was trying to be his normal, tough self, she could see how he had a huge soft spot for you.

“Tim, could you go and get Gino for me? I’m almost done. Ooh and could you grab me a snack from the vending machine?” You say sweetly, smiling over your shoulder at Tim before you pop one of the last vials of blood into the holder.

“You better not start gossiping the moment I leave.” He says lightly in response, a small smile on his face as he crosses over to you to give you a quick kiss on the top of your head before exiting the room.

“I’ve never seen him act like that before,” Lucy says as you finish putting things away before focusing on cleaning Lucy’s arm and giving her a cotton ball to put on the puncture wound to stop any extra bleeding.

“Seen him act like what? A big softie?” You ask jokingly, smiling at Lucy.

“Well I mean he was nicer than he usually is when the needle first pricked me but he’s like a whole different person with you. He actually listens to you for starters.” Lucy says, explaining herself while she thinks of the man who had put her through so many Tim Tests.

“This conversation doesn’t leave this room, okay? He’s a tough nut to crack but he’s strict because he knows you can handle yourself. He wants you to be the best police officer you can be. I’m not involved in the work aspect of Tim’s life. He likes to keep it that way and I just guess he feels he doesn’t have to put up a front when he’s with me.” You explain with a small shrug. You remembered what Tim had been like when you first met. He was closed off and it took you a while to even talk to him enough to form a friendship, and then it took another year and a half before you both had the courage to act on your romantic feelings for each other. Before Lucy could reply, Gino entered the room again to take the bloodwork to the labs to be run through tests to see if the needle infected Lucy with anything. After Gino left and there was still no sign of Tim, you continued to chat with Lucy.

“It’s nice to see him so relaxed with you. It’s like he’s a whole different person with you.” Lucy says, smiling softly.

“That’s the Tim I’m used to. I’m sure with time he’ll learn to be a little less military towards you.” You say softly, smiling at Lucy who nods lightly.

“I hope so. There’s only so many Tim Tests I can handle.” Lucy says with a gentle laugh.

“Oh, he’s told me all about them. I don’t think I would be able to handle them.” You say with a chuckle, and before either of you can say something else, the door opens and Tim enters the room.

“You took your time.” You tease lightly, swivelling around on the stool to face him.

“The nearest vending machine didn’t have your favourite so I just kept looking until I found one that did,” Tim explains, holding your favourite snack out towards you while you smile softly, taking it and standing.

“You didn’t need to do that. I would’ve been fine with anything.” You say softly, smiling up at Tim who smiles back.

“I wanted to,” Tim says, his voice matching yours in softness as he pulls you closer for a kiss.

“Aw, you two are so cute!” Lucy gushes as you pull away from the kiss, giggling lightly as Tim looks over at Lucy.

“Chen, this doesn’t leave this room,” Tim warns, pointing a finger at her as she frowns, caught out in her plans to tell Jackson and Nolan.

“Okay fine. But I need to go to the restroom.” Lucy says, standing and crossing to the door. You bid her a quiet goodbye before turning to Tim.

“I should probably go back on my rounds. You and Lucy are welcome to keep using this room until I get her results from the lab. I’ll come back when I have the results, promise.” You say to Tim, taking his hand and squeezing it softly while your other hand tucks the snack Tim had bought you into your pocket.

“Take care of yourself, won’t you?” Tim asks softly, trying to hide his worry. He knew some patients could get rough with doctors and he always worried about whether someone was going to hurt you.

“I’ll be okay. We have security and if I really need help, I do have my handsome, strong, police officer husband around.” You say softly, your smile widening slightly as Tim raises an eyebrow, hands drifting down to your waist.

“Handsome, huh?” Tim teases, moving to kiss you again as your hands move to his shoulders, one hand resting on his shoulder while your other moves around to the back of his neck, cupping it as you deepen the kiss before your brain kicks in and reminds you of what you’re supposed to be doing.

“As much as I’d love to stay here with you. I have to go. I love you.” You say after pulling away from the kiss. You wished you could stay with your husband but you knew you had a job to do.

“I love you too,” Tim says, giving you one last quick kiss before letting you leave the room so you could go on your rounds.

You visit the various patients that you need to check in on, checking their progress and giving out advice that they need to aid their recovery. You loved checking in with your patients. Sure, there were some who were permanently grumpy and barely acknowledged you or the work you and the nurses were doing for them, but the majority of your patients were sweet and made the job worth it. As you finish up with a patient who was in recovery from a surgery they had the day before, you exit into the hallway and see a few nurses gathered by a door as they cart a woman out on a gurney. You head towards the gathered group and just as you approach the room, Tim and Lucy step out of it.

“What happened? Are you both okay?” You ask worriedly, reaching to grab Tim’s shoulders, eyes scanning him worriedly, checking him over for any injuries.

“y/n, I’m fine. We’re both fine.” Tim says softly, reaching up to his shoulders to gently lift your hands off, holding them in his hands and squeezing softly.

“What happened?” You ask, eyes flicking between both Lucy and Tim waiting for an answer.

“I bumped into this woman in the restroom, she told me about her brother who had been involved in a car accident and after she left I noticed a bottle of bleach on the floor. She was going to inject her brother with it to kill him. She claimed he wouldn’t want to live like how he is now but I just couldn’t let her go through with it so I had no choice but to tase her.” Lucy explains, her voice was shaky as she recounts the events.

“Is everyone okay?” You ask, glancing behind Tim at the room.

“The patient is being checked over now but thanks to Officer Chen’s swift actions, the sister never pushed the plunger,” Tim says, smiling over at Lucy who smiles back weakly.

“I was just doing what needed to be done,” Lucy says with a shrug.

“Look, Grey’s called me back to the station,” Tim says, looking between you and Lucy.

“Do you need me to come with you?” Lucy asks, looking up at Tim who shakes his head.

“No, you stay here and wait for your results. I’ll come back when I’m done. If you need anything I’m sure y/n will help you.” Tim says as you nod.

“Of course. Lucy if you need anything at all while you’re waiting, just shoot me a text.” You say pulling your notebook out of your pocket and scribbling down your phone number to hand to Lucy who takes it with a nod.

“Thank you,” Lucy says gratefully, tucking the paper away in her pocket before you both look over at Tim.

“I’ve got to go. I love you.” Tim says, giving you a quick kiss and hug before turning to Lucy.

“Chen, take care of yourself.” He then says, patting her shoulder before excusing himself, heading down the hallway and disappearing around a corner.

“I said it to Tim earlier but you’re welcome to keep using the room Gino put you in until I have your results.” You say softly, reaching to rest a hand on Lucy’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before quietly excusing yourself so you could continue your rounds until the lab results came back.

As it pushes into the afternoon, you finish your rounds and take care of some appointments you had booked for the day and eventually you get paged by the lab and you head down, picking up Lucy’s blood test results and reading them over before heading back to the room Lucy had been using. However, when you entered the room it was empty, so you walked to the waiting room to see if she was there and you soon found her sitting alongside another police officer.

“Officer Chen.” You say softly, getting Lucy’s attention as she shoots out of the seat, the other officer following suit, resting a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“Yes?” Lucy says watching you as you smile softly.

“I have your results. Would you like to follow me to my-”

“No, sorry, can you just tell me now please?” Lucy asks, cutting in and watching carefully as you nod, eyes moving down to your clipboard to flip through the paperwork.

“So your initial tests came back negative for any viral infections like HIV or hepatitis. But your bloodwork indicated the presence of a staph infection.” You explain, seeing how Lucy relaxed at your first sentence before she grew worried again.

“What does that mean?” Lucy asks, her eyebrows furrowed as she worries about what it could mean for her future.

“It just means we need to get you started on some intravenous antibiotics right away. Some strains of staph infection are drug-resistant so we’ll monitor the wound for any abscesses or cellulitis.” You explain to Lucy, watching as she releases a big breath before turning to the police officer standing behind her.

“Go. I’ll call Tim. He’ll be here for you by the time you’re out.” He says softly before Lucy pulls him into a hug, thanking him quietly before she releases him and turns to you with a small smile and nod.

“If you just follow me.” You say, gesturing with your head for Lucy to follow you to your office which she does and while you settle in your office chair, Lucy eases herself down on the chair opposite your desk. You copy the bloodwork data onto Lucy’s file and print out a prescription, informing her of how to best care for her wound, when to take her medication and where she can pick it up from. After talking her through everything and checking Lucy’s wound over just to be sure it was okay for now, you stood in front of her with a small smile.

“I’ll walk you out, I’m sure Tim’s here now.” You say softly, leading Lucy back to the waiting room where Tim was waiting, rising from the seat he was sitting in when he noticed the two of you approaching.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Tim asks, looking down at Lucy who nods, finally able to relax for the first time since the incident.

“Everything’s good,” Lucy replies, smiling at Tim who nods lightly, a small smile of his own on his face.

“If you have any concerns about anything Lucy, you’re free to give me a call whenever.” You say, making sure Lucy knew that you’d help her no matter the time.

“Thank you for everything, Doctor Bradford.” Lucy thanks you gratefully.

“Please, call me y/n.” You say with a small laugh, not missing how the police officer stood behind Tim gasped lightly with widened eyes as he realised what Lucy said.

“Sorry, did you say-?”

“Yes, she said Bradford. Tim is my husband.” You say, moving to stand next to Tim, taking his hand in yours as you smile up at your husband.

“If I find out you and Officer Chen have been spreading this around later Officer West, I will put you both through the most intense Tim Tests I can think of and it’ll have you questioning whether you want to even continue in the LAPD,” Tim warns lowly.

“Jackson and I would never do that,” Lucy says quickly, standing up for her friend as you sigh lightly.

“Tim, surely you’re tired of dancing around everyone. I don’t mind if people know about me. In fact, I’d like to get to know your colleagues. They’re part of your life too.” You say softly, turning to face Tim as he mirrors your actions.

“Are you sure?” Tim asks quietly, watching you nod.

“I’m sure, Tim. I’d love to get to know the people you work with. I’m your wife and I would like to be more than just a secret.” You admit, watching as Tim’s eyes drop to the floor briefly before looking back up at you. You understood why he had been so hesitant to tell people about you, he was worried that he’d somehow get involved in a case involving a dangerous person which could put you at risk. But you were capable of making your own choices, and you knew that even if you were at risk, knowing Tim’s work friends would make you feel safer.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe.” Tim mutters softly, taking your hands in his.

“Don’t apologise. I know you wanted to keep me safe and I appreciate that. But you can’t hide me forever.” You say, squeezing hands softly and reaching up to press a kiss on his lips.

“Okay, I’ll stop trying to hide you,” Tim replies after you pull away from the kiss, his smile soft as you glance over to Jackson and Lucy.

“I think you two are safe.” You say with a laugh watching as they exchange a quick fist bump.

“I won’t give you any Tim Tests yet,” Tim says, releasing your hands and turning to face the two.

“You won’t give them any unless it’s part of training.” You say, nudging Tim in his side as he lets out a small grunt of pain at the jab.

“Does that mean we can tell Nolan?” Lucy asks, testing the waters and watching Tim’s reaction carefully. When you hear Tim let out a small huff of a sigh, you speak up.

“You can tell Nolan but only Nolan. Let Tim do the rest.” You say. You didn’t know who Nolan was but you could only guess he was the third rookie that had joined the LAPD alongside Jackson and Lucy.

“What she said. Anyone else knows before I tell them, you know what the punishment will be.” Tim says, raising an eyebrow as both Jackson and Lucy nod hurriedly, aware of what Tim Tests he could potentially put them through.

“I should probably get back to work.” You mutter, noticing the time on the clock behind the nurse’s desk.

“Yeah, I’ve got to take Lucy back to the station,” Tim says with a nod, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“I’ll see you when I get home.” You whisper softly smiling up at your husband before watching him leave with Lucy following close behind while Jackson stays put.

“I know you have to get back to work but it’s honestly incredible how different Tim is with you,” Jackson speaks up quickly, catching your attention as you laugh softly.

“Funnily enough Lucy said a similar thing.” You say with a soft laugh as you shrug, making Jackson let out a gentle laugh of his own.

“I won’t keep you. I should probably find my TO.” Jackson says, nodding with a soft smile as you smile back.

“If your TO is Angela, tell her I say ‘hi’ will you?” You say, beginning to back away and shooting Jackson a quick wink when his jaw drops before turning around and making your way back to your office to continue with the rest of your shift.

By the time your shift came to an end, you were just about ready to drop. It had been a long day and when you got home you were greeted by Tim who pulled you into his arms almost the moment you walked through the door.

“Tim. I love you but I need a shower.” You giggle as you feel Tim press a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’ll get dinner sorted then.” He replies softly, releasing you from the embrace and letting you go off and shower and change into something comfier. By the time you had finished showering and changing, you could smell the dinner Tim was preparing.

“It smells good.” You say as you enter the kitchen, sidling up alongside Tim and winding your arms around his middle as he turns the stove off.

“I could’ve had a career as a chef.” Tim jokes lightly, welcoming your embrace. When you release Tim from your embrace so he can finish up the food, you begin to grab some plates and cutlery for when Tim is ready to plate up the food. Once the food is plated up, you sit at the table and eat your dinner, conversing the whole time. When you finish your meal, you both tidy away everything before retiring to the sofa, cuddling into each other while Tim finds a tv show to put on in the background.

“Are you really okay with telling people about us? I feel like I put you on the spot.” You mumble, resting your head on Tim’s chest and looking up at him.

“I’m more than okay with telling people about us. You’re right. You deserve to know my colleagues, and I don’t know how much longer I can go hiding you. You deserve to be shown off.” Tim replies, squeezing you tighter as a smile crosses your face.

A week later, you pulled up outside the Mid-Wilshire police station, parked your car, and stepped out. You headed into the building with a smile as you met Tim in the reception area.

“Hey.” He greets you with a smile, capturing your lips in his for a soft kiss as he pulls you into his arms.

“That’s a nice welcome.” You say with a smile as you pull away from the kiss.

“Only the best for you,” Tim mutters softly.

“You big softie.” You say with a laugh as Tim rolls his eyes.

“y/n!” You hear Lucy’s excited voice say as she rushes over to you, hugging you close as you reciprocate the embrace, smiling widely.

“Hey, Lucy. How have you been?” You ask. Since Tim had started telling people about you, you’d met various people from Mid-Wilshire station as you swung by the station every so often but Lucy had been the one you’d formed the closest friendship with.

“I’ve been doing well! But between you and me I think you need to stop by more. Tim’s always happier after you visit.” Lucy says, muttering her words lowly so Tim doesn’t hear her as you laugh lightly.

“Well, hopefully, these make everyone a little happier.” You say with a smile, holding up the bag of various cakes you had gotten from a bakery you and Tim frequented.

“Oh yes! I knew there was a reason you were my favourite Bradford!” You hear Jackson exclaim as he approaches you, making you laugh as you hand the bag to Nolan who also joins the group as you glance over at Tim who rolls his eyes and shrugs at Jackson’s comment.

“Everyone’s going to love that you’ve done this. You and Tim have been talking this bakery up for a week now.” Nolan says, opening the bag enough to peek in at the goodies inside.

“I just got things I thought everyone would like.” You say, watching as the three rookies take it in turns peeking inside the bag and trying to figure out what each thing is. As you watch them discussing their theories quietly, Tim walks up alongside you, wrapping an arm around your middle and tugging you into his side.

“I can’t believe I have to share you with all these guys now,” Tim mutters, and this time it is your turn to jokingly roll your eyes.

“Well, just remember, I married you. So you don’t need to worry about someone ‘stealing’ me away.” You joke, leaning into Tim’s side.

“It’s relieving to hear that.” Tim jokes in return, chuckling lightly.

“I hate to do this so soon after arriving but I need to head back to the hospital. I don’t want to see any of you guys in there as patients. Got it?” You say, pointing at Tim and the three rookies who all nod hurriedly before you turn to face Tim.

“Stay safe out there.” You whisper before giving him a soft kiss.

“Always,” Tim replies after you pull away, letting you say your goodbyes to the rookies before walking you out to your car and giving you one last kiss before watching as you get in your car and drive away to head back to work.

Since you had made friends with the people he worked with, Tim found himself more willing to be friendly with those around him at work. Most of the time he was still the tough training officer that everyone was used to, but you had taught him not to burn all his bridges too soon, and that it was okay to have friends at work.

And with you making the effort to know those he worked with, Tim was sure he fell in love with you all over again.

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #the rookie #the rookie abc #the rookie fic #the rookie fanfic #the rookie imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford fic #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x fem!reader

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coupsctrl · 3 months ago

Note

Hihi - a request if you have time, some tooth rotting fluff about Scoups/Reader and reader wearing his hoodies. Because mans seems to ALWAYS HAVE the comfiest fluffy hoodies that I wish I could hide in. Thank you!

hello!! thank u so much for requesting, i hope u like it! let me know what u think! <3

What's Yours Is Mine

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PAIRING(S):

Boyfriend!Seungcheol, Female!Reader

GENRE:

tooth rotting fluff, as requested :)

"You're shivering"

Those are the words you hear from your beloved boyfriend Seungcheol as you two are watching a show. His house has always been on the colder side, so even though the two of you are cuddled up on the couch, you still manage to shiver.

You look up at him, shrugging. "I'm fine."

He just frowns, poking the tip of your nose as he mumbles "Silly girl..."

You watch as he stands up and disappears into his room. After a while he comes out, holding two of his most beloved hoodies. You tilt your head,

"What's this?"

He smiles, holding both of the soft hoodies out to you. "Pick one."

"Cheol really i'm fin-"

He gently cuts you off. "If you don't pick a hoodie right now I will put it on you myself."

You bite back a laugh at his serious but amusing tone. Looking at the two very large hoodies in front of you, you try to make your decision. One of them is a navy blue hoodie, it has long drawstrings, as well as a logo in the middle of it. But the other catches your eye, it's an all black hoodie, the softness of the material looking like it's seeping into Seungcheol's hands. You've seen it on him plenty of times before, so it being one of your options, makes it impossible to deny.

"That one." you point to the black one, smiling.

He returns your smile, glad you weren't going to fight on this any longer. He gently hands you the hoodie, before sitting back down in his position before. The moment you slide the hoodie on, you feel a sense of warmth. A feeling of contentment. The smell of it is so uniquely Choi Seungcheol, and you can feel yourself instinctively snuggle more and more into it as you lay back down onto his chest.

"You look good in it." He says through a smile, adjusting the neckline of it for you.

You smile, pulling the sleeves up, as they drown your hands. You feel so safe in his clothes, especially when they're 10x bigger than you. You could get used to this.

That's how it all started.

That moment was two weeks ago, and you still try and use every moment as an opportunity to wear them again. About to go on a walk? Well it's cold out, and you need a warm, comfortable hoodie to protect you. Going to bed? What's better than Seungcheol's body & hands wrapped around you as you sleep? His cozy hoodies.

You're currently making a late night snack for yourself. You thought Cheol was asleep, so you opened his closet, grabbed his hoodie and slid it on as you made your way to the kitchen. You yawn as you check the clock on the wall, it reads 1:06am. You know Seungcheol is a light sleeper, always wanting to cuddle you in his sleep, so you try and make it quick.

You slide open the freezer, grabbing a tub of Rocky Road ice cream, your favourite. Seungcheol always makes sure he's stocked up on it, almost like you live there too. You grab a spoon and dig in, getting comfortable as you sit down on the island. You do this most nights. Because of your busy schedule from your new job, and now midterms around the corner, you barely have time to eat proper meals. I mean, not saying that ice cream is a proper meal, but at least it's something.

As you're in your own thoughts, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. You immediately relax, letting out a sigh you didn't know you were holding, and drop the spoon into the tub.

"Sorry did I wake you?" You quietly ask.

He mumbles incoherently, his head rubbing against your shoulder and nuzzling it into your neck as he places a kiss there. You always feel so fuzzy inside whenever he gets clingy like this, like a little girl with her crush again.

"Mm...why are you up?" He asks, tightening his grip on your waist.

"'Was hungry. Sorry Cheol, I really tried to not wake you."

You can feel his head shaking on your neck, his breath warm and hot as he says, "You didn't baby, 'woke up on my own."

"Can you come back to bed now, pleasee?" He asks in his adorable sleepy voice.

You turn your upper body to look at him, smiling. "Just a few more bites, kay?"

You can see him nod, his eyes barely keeping open, and you swear your heart could melt on the spot. You turn your body back around, and as you're about to take another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, he speaks. "You're stealing my hoodie again."

You grin, looking down at the oversized sleeves. "It's not stealing if you don't ask for it back"

You hear a low chuckle, as he lets go of your waist. "Guess it's officially yours now."

You smile at his words. Seeming like you gave him enough torture, you stand up and place the ice cream back in the freezer. Practically the minute your hands were free, he wrapped his body around you, walking back to his room.

The two of you plop onto the bed and he immediately places his head on top of yours, rubbing your back soothingly. You whisper, a pang of guilt in your voice. "Sorry I woke you Cheol."

"Don't apologize, like I said you didn't wake me. And if it means I get to keep seeing you in my hoodies, please do this every night."

That makes you let out a small giggle, feeling the tiredness creep up to you as well.

"I love you Cheollie."

Theres a pang of silence before he speaks up,

"I love you more."

You smile, feeling overflowed with love in that moment as you finally shut your eyes for the night.

At this point, his hoodies were basically mine....and so was he.

#svt #seventeen #svt fluff #scoups #svt x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #scoups fluff #seungcheol

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froginmygarden · 8 months ago

Text

Got a little brain worm on the way home and have a need to write it down. Just a drabble because I'm not good at writing.

DC x DP Just a (clone) couple

Joung Adult!Team Phantom for some reason end up in the DC universe. For reasons, there aren't any equivalents of them here. Danny and Sam are together and Danny and Dani have a familiar relationship. Whatever the reasons they stay in this universe.

So Sam, Danny and Dani start making a life together as a family, Tucker goes on to make a "small business" involving VPN's and tech in general (finds an anthropomorphic girlfriend on the way or something), Jazz goes to uni (JL members city of choice, although I advise against Gotham or Metropolis, because that would make this too short).

For some MORE reasons unknown, although they might be by the making of our favourite clock-man, the DP people's DNA has by default markings of being clones in DC (I don't know if this is canon or fanon but Connor had something like that ╮⁠(⁠＾⁠▽⁠＾⁠)⁠╭). The thing is here Jack = Bruce, Maddy = Alexander and Jeremy = Clark, Pamela = Lois! Do you see my vision here??

So *JL member from the perspective city* meets the Fenton/Manson/Nightingale?? family accidentally when they are visiting Jazz, and has a sweet deja vu moment. Some time passes and the off handedly mention it to someone in the JL.

Batman being the paranoid bastard that he is goes on to check this thing out, because he can smell the fish from a mile away. Thinks the couple are clones, gets very paranoid again and starts making plans, plans get found by his kids, kids tell the JL and friends. So starts the collective discussions of what should they do, some say that they should get rid of the clones, some others that they don't have proof for anything nefarious and shouldn't do anything at all, someone points out that they have literally showed up out of nowhere and that it is reasonable to be suspicious. And Connor is also there.

Meanwhile Team Phantom is going about their lives like normal, but with a "I know that you know" mindset, and don't really bother with hiding themselves.

In my opinion the part that has to be the most glaringly noticeable about them should be that Danny (Batman's clone apparently) should wear a lot of flannel and have a "Midwestern Nice" personality" (the stuff of legends I have only heard about in passing) and over all should resemble Clark in fashion sense. For Sam (Superman's clone apparently) the exact opposite - she can put the GOTH in Gotham.

And all JL angst/drama/confusion happens in the background as we follow Connor Kent's/Superboy's POV and him dealing with having two half siblings and the half siblings being together and them having a child and this is too much for him oooooooooo noooooooo nononoonononoonononononno what in the sweeet home Alabama whhhhhyyyyyyyy!??!

So it's like a metronome tick's between the POVs of fluffy new life/potential threat to the JL I mean the child of Bruce/Lex and child Clark/Luis having potential super-smart, super-powered (potentially evil??) children. But overall it's crack.

Maybe I'll plan it out and actually try to write it, but meanwhile you can enjoy my half-ill/fever induced brain worms and play in the brown dirt puddle I call my creative thinking.

To who ever finished reading this

Good night! ;P

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bekolxeram · 1 year ago

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I'm late to the party I know, but I need to learn how to make gifs first. I actually find the Bucktommy dinner scene a bit awkward, but not because they "lack chemistry" or the "flirting is problematic". It's not supposed to be just a cute bonus scene, it's engineered to stuff as much information as possible into mere 55 seconds. Here is my read on it:

The good old always at the hospital joke, probably just Tommy trying to lighten the mood after such a hectic day for the 118, but mainly a set up for the next part.

Buck does not see the humor in it, he seems upset.

Tommy has apparently gotten to know Buck enough at the stage to immediately clock it, and under all the dark humor and sarcasm, he does actually care about Buck's feelings.

The scene of Buck and Eddie in the hospital room with Bobby ends up on the cutting room floor, we've only got that one shot of teary eyed Buck when he breaks the news to Eddie at his house, so this is the first time in the episode Buck gets to express his fear of losing Bobby, his father figure.

And here we are, controversial moment number 1. There isn't much context attached to this line, so viewers interpret it differently. I'm in the minority camp that thinks Tommy is being serious here, Lou's delivery makes it seem like Tommy says this out of concern. I believe it's a call back to this line from the medal ceremony:

Here Buck is talking about Phillip the same way Tommy and Chimney (possibly Hen too) talk about Gerrard: like he's dead. Tommy is probably wondering if Phillip is another Gerrard situation, and he invites Buck to talk about it if he wishes to.

Buck gives a humorous but one word answer, so Tommy gets that he doesn't want to get too deep into it.

From this line on, it's a set up for the Gerrard reign of terror in S8. Tommy reiterates the jealousy he mentioned in 7x04, that he wants to become a part of the 118 family, which he only had a little taste of before he left to become a pilot.

Tommy backstory crumb. Buck and Phillip at least see each other at family functions, Tommy doesn't have a relationship with his dad at all. Judging by the medal ceremony, he doesn't seem to have any family left.

It confirms Gerrard as the anti-Christ anti-Bobby. Buck becomes the person he is because of Bobby, while Tommy behaved the way he did in the 3 begin episodes because of Gerrard. It acknowledges Tommy's toxic ways back in the days, but as we can see by the time Bobby became captain of the 118, Tommy was already on friendly terms with Chimney and Hen, we might have a chance to see the transformation in between next season. I've heard that season 7 is supposed to be a soft relaunch of the entire series, so maybe Gerrard is a good plot device to make new viewers understand the positive influence Bobby has on the firefam.

Classic deadpan humor from Tommy, Buck gets the message that he wants to keep the conversation lighthearted.

Now Buck has the power to decide which direction he's leading the conversation into, and he gives us controversial moment number 2, he brings up daddy issues and makes it horny. Look at his smirky face, he's definitely not trying to have a serious chat about father complex. He's the one who starts flirting, not Tommy, and it shows us unlike the nervous fumbling at the beginning of their relationship, Buck is now comfortable enough to initiate flirting.

Tommy can't say no to that face, so he flirts back, but it can also be interpreted as him being in denial of his obvious daddy issues. More conflict and angst for S8?

More flirting. Boy's got rizz towards all genders. He basically admits he might have "daddy issues" in a sexual connotation.

Now comes THE controversial moment of the scene, if not the episode. I've seen people online bashing Tommy for "making it sexual" (Buck did), "interrupting a meaningful conversation to satisfy his daddy kink" (no one is actually talking about any kink), or even "exploiting Buck's trauma to put him in an inferior role in a dom/sub relationship" (What? That's not what d/s is about).

I raise you the point that the word "daddy" is no longer some kind of kink exclusive lingo. This word has entered the popular zeitgeist the last couple years, and now it basically just means a sexy older man. I bet the daddy kink thing doesn't even cross the mind of most of the GA, they just take it as Tommy hoping Buck find this older man sexy. I think we might have collectively read too many smutty fanfics, that's why we all immediately jumped to the very extreme of the kinkiness spectrum when it comes to this scene.

Conclusion, the dialog in this scene may not sound natural, but that's not the point. This scene is in fact, an infodump. Kudos to the actors for making it cute.

#still suck at making gifs #just my own two cents #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 abc #tevan #kinley

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touchme-teezme · 5 months ago

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Why Me?

PAIRINGS | collegeboy!yeosang x fab!reader

TAGS | plot with some porn, kissing, fingering, unprotected sex, angsty & high tension dialogues bcs reader and yeosang are in situationship & figuring it out, reader is a player and avoidant, yeosang gets attached too easily. oopsie.

RATING | NSFW 21+ (Minors pls DNI/if it makes you uncomfortable don’t read thx)

SUMMARY | Yeosang realized he had feelings for you at the worst possible moment—now he’s spiralling and needs an outlet. Lucky for you, you’re here. Unlucky for you, it comes with a cost.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | oK this was plot heavy. lowkey in my feelings when i wrote it and i didn’t rlly want smut to be the focal point of all the stories — especially if i didn’t think it fit the members. so we’re trying something new out with yeo’s part. i hope you like it hehe enjoy freaks (complimentary). if you catch any mistakes, no you didn’t. i proofread with vibes not scrutiny.

💌 click here to see my Love Interrupted series masterlist [ot8] — check out the other parts!

inspired by pink matter & bad religion by frank ocean

(frank come home pls i can’t do this anymore.)

Yeosang wasn’t the nosy type—he liked to think he was above that.

Normally, he’d get himself to stop missing you by scrolling through your posts or replaying your story highlights like a perfectly chill (totally not obsessed) person. But today curiosity dragged him into the abyss that was your tagged photos.

And that’s where he saw it. Them.

The two others you were seeing on the side. He’d heard rumours but didn’t believe them until he saw Lee Chan’s hands on your ass as you were hugging him or a selfie where you were a little too close to Choi Yeonjun.

Even he never had a photo with you where your cheeks were squished against each others.

“Relax,” Wooyoung had told him that night he confided in his friend, “It’s normal. They’re probably just on her roster. You guys aren’t exclusive anyway.”

Now, every time he lay flat on his back, staring at a ceiling, his mind went into the same place:

How did you meet them? How long have you been seeing them? Do they know what you like? Or worse—did you touch them the same way you’re touching him right now?

And seriously, how the fuck did you and Yeonjun even meet?

“Yeosang, i’m talking to you.”

“Huh?” His head jerked up at the sound of your voice, only to find you staring up at him from between his legs, mouth hovering just shy of the fabric of his underwear.

His pants were bunched at his ankles, and he was sprawled out with his knees hanging off the bed—one hand casually tucked under his head.

The angle was doing the most to show off how much gym time he and San had clearly been clocking lately.

“I asked if I can—“

“Uh… Y-Yeah, yeah go ahead.”

You sighed, rising from your knees to gracefully mount his body. Straddling him with elegance, you leaned down, your face inches from his clearly preoccupied gaze.

Speaking of gazes, his eyes were your favourite. Your knuckles grazed his birthmark, then you casually swept his hair back.

"What's going on?"

He reacted instantly, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply as he leaned in. You felt his hands glide down your spine, past the hooks of your bra. He shook his head, "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Something’s definitely going on because I was about to suck you off and you haven’t looked at me once.”

Yeosang gently placed his hand on the back of your head and flipped you over, landing you on your side.

He then adjusted himself, kicking off his jeans with a nonchalant flick of his ankle. Scooting closer to your flushed face, his silence was starting to make you a tad more nervous than usual.

“Is everything okay?” You shifted closer to his body.

“I wanted to ask you something, and I need you to be honest.”

“Oh. Sure.” Your eyebrows rose. “But maybe we save the serious talk for after, you know, the fun stuff?” You started trailing your fingers along the faint ridges of his abs.

He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he stared down at your joined hands. “Do you…” He trailed off, recalibrating mid-sentence. “How long are we going to keep having fun?”

“Well,” you said, blinking like it was the most obvious answer in the world, “A few rounds, a few hours—though if you do that thing I like, I might have to keep you here a bit longer.”

You leaned in for a kiss, slow and deliberate, your lips skimming his bottom lip. His hand slipped to your ass like muscle memory, but instead of diving in, his brain just had to keep working.

“No, not this,” he mumbled between kisses before pulling away with all the self-control and focus in the world. “I mean… this—as in, us. How much longer are we going to keep this going?”

“Oh.” You paused, your eyes darted between his face and the diminishing gap between your bodies. “I don’t know… as long as we want to?”

His jaw tightened, his expression unreadable.

“Do you not want to anymore?” You asked.

“It’s not that,” he sighed. “I’m starting my internship next semester. I just… I needed to know if I have a reason to turn down that offer in Busan.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could hear was the faint hum of the city beyond your creaked window.

“Well,” you said. “I told you…if you want to, you should.”

“So you think I should go?”

“I think you should do whatever makes you happiest.”

“And what if what I want doesn’t make you happy?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a shrug. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“But it does. It matters to me.” His voice dipped, tinged with frustration, though his gaze softened into something you hadn’t seen before.

“So… what do you want me to say?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” His voice cracked just enough to make your chest tighten. “That you want me to stay. That this is something important to hold on to or that…” He gestured vaguely to himself, as if it physically pained him. “…that I’m not just someone you fuck when everyone else is busy.”

Oh.

You sighed, sitting up to rake your fingers through your hair while pulling your knees to your chest.

Maybe it was one of the guys you’d been seeing who ran his mouth. Word gets around campus pretty easily when you have mutual friends. It’s also not like you were deliberately hiding it, but you somehow still felt a little ashamed for him to find out.

Yeosang, on the other hand, looked like he’d rather dissolve into thin air. Maybe insecurity had sucker-punched him or he was catching feelings and scared you’d bolt the moment he brought it up.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he muttered, voice soft and far away. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” He shifted to sit next to you, his posture mirroring yours.

“It’s fine,” You tried to sound reassuring, but the weight of his question hung in the air.

You glanced at him, and damn his side profile wasn’t helping you think straight. “So, what is it? You don’t want me seeing anyone else?”

His sharp inhale said it all. “I can’t tell you what to do, but just so you know, I’m not seeing anyone else,” his voice was rough, like he was trying to swallow the words before they came out. “I don’t even want anyone else. I don’t know how you do it, how you can… be with anyone else.”

Yeosang turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “I just… I want to know if it could ever be… just me.”

He’d meant it when he swore off relationships — especially after what happened to San, he believed that was more than enough to convince him that relationships weren’t worth it.

But the more he saw you, the more his wishes began to crack. The more he wanted it to be only him you came back to.

“What am I to you?” he asked finally, the question breaking the silence.

You swallowed, searching for words that felt like truth but wouldn’t cut too deep. “You’re…” The answer wavered, unsure even as it left your lips. “You’re someone I care about. A lot.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss him, trying to drown out the conversation in the only way you knew how.

His fingers gripped your hips tightly, grounding you against him, and you felt a flicker of guilt at the way you were avoiding his question but it melted away when you felt his tongue slip in.

When you pulled back, he was breathless and flushed, his chest heaving as if he’d just surfaced from underwater. His hands stayed firmly on your love handles, and his forehead leaned against yours.

“For fuck’s sake…” he muttered, the frustration thick in his voice. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair like that would somehow untangle the mess in his brain. “Why me?”

“Yeosang?”

He realised right then and there, there was no changing your mind.

He snapped back to reality, his grip tightening as his hands slid down to your thighs. In one smooth move, you were on your back and he was settling himself right on top of you.

Yeosang settled between your thighs. He rocked his hips, grinding himself against you, seeking friction and relief as your lips wouldn’t leave his alone.

You cupped the side of his face, looking up at him between breaks of the kiss to slide a gentle slow finger into his mouth for him to suck as he held your stare.

Your other hand pushed away the curtain of hair falling from his face, admiring his bare beauty in your touch.

You liked how he reacted to your touches, how at a single command he kneels, he’d do anything for you if you’d ask — maybe that’s what scared you in return but you’d never tell him that.

You both eventually fell on your sides, not a single word besides the usual moans and gasps of “yes”, “like that”, and yeosang’s personal favourite: “i need you right now.”

Before you knew it, your back faced him and you were both entirely undressed.

He held you tight, pressing his face into the sweet spot where your neck met your shoulder. His lips trailed kisses there as his hands explored your familiar curves. Your hips ground back against him, rubbing your ass over his erection.

His fingers danced across your stomach before slipping lower. You groaned, feeling his fingers open to a ‘V’ to graze the sides of your entrance with light strokes.

His focus on you was primal and hungry as he started circling the your folds in a distinct pattern. He sunk two fingers deep inside your slick clenching heat, earning a breathy whine that was turning him on relentlessly. Your breath was hot against his ear as you watched him work, your inner muscles clenching greedily.

Yeosang knew your body the best out of the others. He always paid attention to your physical reactions to what you really like and what hurt you. After a while, he got the hang of it pretty damn quick.

Between the gentle caresses and firmer strokes, he was driving you higher, teasing you mercilessly—and yet, he hadn’t even gone all the way. But holding out much longer wasn’t an option; the things you were saying were wrecking his focus, leaving his restraint hanging by a thread.

You’re the only one I want.

You make me feel so good.

I want you so bad.

Don’t get him wrong, the sex was great — but even with you naked in his arms, swearing he was the one you wanted, he didn’t feel it. Because desiring him wasn’t the same as making him yours—and you never would.

You held his face behind you, anchoring your hand on the nape of his neck as he pounded into you with his hard throbbing cock into you at an angle that was blurring your vision.

He was eagerly grabbing a handful of your breast, teasing your nipple between his fingers as he sucked onto your neck, whining against your skin.

He pushed your knee higher. Gripping your side like he was holding on for dear life, he thrust into you with the determination, only to pull out slowly, and savouring the moment.

The increasing pace turned your moans into a symphony of pleasure, loud enough to give the neighbors an unsolicited introduction to Yeosang’s name. They might not have seen him, but they sure knew who he was now.

The sound of skin meeting skin, punctuated by the occasional slap of his hand against your ass made you grin.

“Fuck! Yeosang!” You exclaimed.

“I know baby, I know,” he replied, his voice a low, reassuring rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

His focus unwavering. It was as if he had a singular mission: to bring you to the peak of pleasure and join you there.

He eventually sent you over the edge. You bit down on your lip as he showered you with open-mouthed kisses on one side of your face.

“Shit… Yeosang, that was— you felt so fucking good.” You barely caught your breath.

You held his face over your shoulder and he smiled back, feeling your thumb stroke the side of his face before coming in for a rewarding kiss.

Yeosang had it all—looks, charm, the perfect height for you, and you always had a soft spot for the shy types. Sure, his borderline obsession with video games wasn’t exactly your favorite thing, but hey, at least it wasn’t destructive.

Still, no matter how great he was, Yeosang realised the truth you’d never admit: a relationship wasn’t exactly your thing.

Still, his visit to your neighbourhood didn’t end on that note.

After a few rounds of small talk and a necessary bathroom breaks, you were back to your usual routine — with a few new surprises.

It included him kneeling before your parted legs as you sat on the edge of the bed, watching him savour, and lick up your core. It wasn't long before your leg found its way over his shoulder, trembling and quivering as you held onto the back of his head.

Then came the moment when he held your wrists behind your back, taking you from behind. Fucking. Hell. The spanking returned, accompanied by a string of praises in that low voice of his and it turned you on more than anything else he’d ever tried.

You were so caught up in the bliss and pleasure of the moment, reveling in how he truly outdid himself tonight, that you missed two things:

Yeosang had whispered "I love you" at the peak of his final climax.

And this was going to be the last time.

Yeosang was so haunted by the painful realization that if he ever walked away, you wouldn't miss him.

After all, there were plenty of others ready to take his place by your side, as if he were just another face in the crowd.

He knew you were never going to change your mind, even when he was the one on the line.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, you were fast asleep. Yeosang watched the steady rise and fall of your bare back, the room quiet except for your soft breathing. The faint jingle of his belt buckle broke the stillness as he slipped into his jeans.

He caught sight of himself in your full-length mirror in the corner, you sound asleep behind him, and all he felt was emptiness. The faint marks on his neck and chest—your handiwork—didn’t even draw the usual smirk.

He slipped his shirt back on and crept out of your place, the same way he’d done countless times before.

Standing on the corner of your street, he pulled out his phone and fired off an email accepting the position. One press of “send”, he raised his arm, hailing a taxi without a second glance back.

A yellow coloured taxi pulled up just as he tucked the phone back into his pocket. He climbed in, saying the name of his street and sinking into his seat, completely worn out.

The driver nodded without saying much from the rearview mirror where a string of beads with a tassel hung. The car pulled away from that street.

He stole another glance at Yeosang, whose watery eyes and faraway stare made it seem like the weight of the world was crushing his shoulders.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah,” Yeosang muttered, leaning against the glass. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

His phone buzzed in his jeans pocket, and his gaze dropped to the screen—Wooyoung’s name lighting up, accompanied by that dumb photo he’d set as his own contact picture.

He’d hoped that by the sixth missed call—during the time Yeosang had your arms pinned behind your back—Wooyoung would finally give it a rest.

But if there was one thing everyone knew about Wooyoung, it was that his commitment to annoying his friends was unmatched.

“Fucking finally, where are you?” Wooyoung’s voice came through, loud and chaotic, with the telltale background noise of a busy restaurant.

“Home,” Yeosang lied, voice barely above a mumble and cleared his throat. “Why?”

“Perfect, so you’re close. Everyone’s already here—your roommate, Hwa, the usual. San and Mingi bailed though. Typical. Anyway, you promised you’d show up tonight, so—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Yeosang cut him off, not in the mood for one of Wooyoung’s endless rambles.

Wooyoung, sharp as ever, caught the attitude immediately. “Don’t be a dick. We’ll just see you at the club if you’re gonna take forever.”

“Yeah, sure. Bye.” Yeosang ended the call before Wooyoung could get another word in. He didn’t even flinch when he heard Wooyoung start to curse—cutting him off mid-sentence was the point.

The driver glanced at him as they pulled to a stop at a red light, an eyebrow quirking in silent judgment. “A lot going on, huh?”

Yeosang’s eyes stayed fixed on the city lights, streaking and blurring as they sped past. “You have no idea.”

The driver shrugged, settling back into his seat. “Well, it’s a long drive to where you’re headed. I’ve got time.”

#yeosang smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #kang yeosang #atz smut #atz fanfic #ateez smut #yeosang x reader #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #yeosang #atz x reader #yeosang angst #ateez #atiny #hetmongi look away plz #yeodungies #ateez yeosang

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